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A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS 
AND   A   DRIFT  FROM  RED- 
WOOD CAMP 


BRET   HARTE 


BOSTON   AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

(Cfce  ttftmtffce  $rt&,  <£amfcri&0e 

1888 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Copyright,  1887, 
BY  BRET  HARTE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE   SIERRAS 5 

A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP  .  173 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEERAS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

WHERE  the  great  highway  of  the  Sierras 
nears  the  summit,  and  the  pines  begin  to 
show  sterile  reaches  of  rock  and  waste  in 
their  drawn-up  files,  there  are  signs  of  occa- 
sional departures  from  the  main  road,  as  if 
the  weary  traveller  had  at  times  succumbed 
to  the  long  ascent,  and  turned  aside  for  rest 
and  breath  again.  The  tired  eyes  of  many 
a  dusty  passenger  on  the  old  overland  coach 
have  gazed  wistfully  on  those  sylvan  open- 
ings, and  imagined  recesses  of  primeval 
shade  and  virgin  wilderness  in  their  dim 
perspectives.  Had  he  descended,  however, 
and  followed  one  of  these  diverging  paths, 
he  would  have  come  upon  some  rude  wagon 
track,  or  "log-slide,"  leading  from  a  clear- 


6  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

ing  on  the  slope,  or  the  ominous  saw-mill, 
half  hidden  in  the  forest  it  was  slowly  deci- 
mating. The  woodland  hush  might  have 
been  broken  by  the  sound  of  water  passing 
over  some  unseen  dam  in  the  hollow,  or  the 
hiss  of  escaping  steam  and  throb  of  an  invis- 
ible engine  in  the  covert. 

Such,  at  least,  was  the  experience  of  a 
young  fellow  of  five-and-twenty,  who,  knap- 
sack on  back  and  stick  in  hand,  had  turned 
aside  from  the  highway  and  entered  the 
woods  one  pleasant  afternoon  in  July.  But 
he  was  evidently  a  deliberate  pedestrian, 
and  not  a  recent  deposit  of  the  proceeding 
stage-coach ;  and  although  his  stout  walking- 
shoes  were  covered  with  dust,  he  had  neither 
the  habitual  slouch  and  slovenliness  of  the 
tramp,  nor  the  hurried  fatigue  and  growing 
negligence  of  an  involuntary  wayfarer.  His 
clothes,  which  were  strong  and  serviceable, 
were  better  fitted  for  their  present  usage 
than  the  ordinary  garments  of  the  Califor- 
nian  travellers,  which  were  too  apt  to  be 
either  above  or  below  their  requirements. 
But  perhaps  the  stranger's  greatest  claim  to 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS.  7 

originality  was  the  absence  of  any  weapon 
in  his  equipment.  He  carried  neither  rifle 
nor  gun  in  his  hand,  and  his  narrow  leathern 
belt  was  empty  of  either  knife  or  revolver. 

A  half-mile  from  the  main  road,  which 
seemed  to  him  to  have  dropped  out  of  sight 
the  moment  he  had  left  it,  he  came  upon 
a  half-cleared  area,  where  the  hastily-cut 
stumps  of  pines,  of  irregular  height,  bore 
an  odd  resemblance  to  the  broken  columns 
of  some  vast  and  ruined  temple.  A  few 
fallen  shafts,  denuded  of  their  bark  and 
tessellated  branches,  sawn  into  symmetrical 
cylinders,  lay  beside  the  stumps,  and  lent 
themselves  to  the  illusion.  But  the  freshly- 
cut  chips,  so  damp  that  they  still  clung  in 
layers  to  each  other  as  they  had  fallen  from 
the  axe,  and  the  stumps  themselves,  still  wet 
and  viscous  from  their  drained  life-blood,  were 
redolent  of  an  odor  of  youth  and  freshness. 

The  young  man  seated  himself  on  one  of 
the  logs  and  deeply  inhaled  the  sharp  bal- 
samic fragrance  —  albeit  with  a  slight  cough 
and  a  later  hurried  respiration.  This,  and 
a  certain  drawn  look  about  his  upper  lip, 


8  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

seemed  to  indicate,  in  spite  of  his  strength 
and  color,  some  pulmonary  weakness.  He, 
however,  rose  after  a  moment's  rest  with 
undiminished  energy  and  cheerfulness,  read- 
justed his  knapsack,  and  began  to  lightly 
pick  his  way  across  the  fallen  timber.  A 
few  paces  on,  the  muffled  whir  of  machin- 
ery became  more  audible,  with  the  lazy, 
monotonous  command  of  "Gee  thar,"  from 
some  unseen  ox-driver.  Presently,  the  slow, 
deliberately-swaying  heads  of  a  team  of  oxen 
emerged  from  the  bushes,  followed  by  the 
clanking  chain  of  the  "  skids "  of  sawn 
planks,  which  they  were  ponderously  drag- 
ging with  that  ostentatious  submissiveness 
peculiar  to  their  species.  They  had  nearly 
passed  him  when  there  was  a  sudden  hitch 
in  the  procession.  From  where  he  stood  he 
could  see  that  a  projecting  plank  had  struck 
a  pile  of  chips  and  become  partly  imbedded 
in  it.  To  run  to  the  obstruction  and,  with  a 
few  dexterous  strokes  and  the  leverage  of 
his  stout  stick,  dislodge  the  plank  was  the 
work  not  only  of  the  moment  but  of  an 
evidently  energetic  hand.  The  teamster 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  9 

looked  back  and  merely  nodded  his  appre- 
ciation, and  with  a  "  Gee  up !  Out  of  that, 
now !  "  the  skids  moved  on. 

"  Much  obliged,  there ! "  said  a  hearty 
voice,  as  if  supplementing  the  teamster's 
imperfect  acknowledgment. 

The  stranger  looked  up.  The  voice  came 
from  the  open,  sashless,  shutterless  window 
of  a  rude  building  —  a  mere  shell  of  boards 
and  beams  half  hidden  in  the  still  leafy  cov- 
ert before  him.  He  had  completely  over- 
looked it  in  his  approach,  even  as  he  had 
ignored  the  nearer  throbbing  of  the  machin- 
ery, which  was  so  violent  as  to  impart  a 
decided  tremor  to  the  slight  edifice,  and  to 
shake  the  speaker  so  strongly  that  he  was 
obliged  while  speaking  to  steady  himself  by 
the  sashless  frame  of  the  window  at  which 
he  stood.  He  had  a  face  of  good-natured 
and  alert  intelligence,  a  master's  independ- 
ence and  authority  of  manner,  in  spite  of 
his  blue  jean  overalls  and  flannel  shirt. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  the  stranger, 
smiling  with  equal  but  more  deliberate  good- 
humor.  Then,  seeing  that  his  interlocutor 


10  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEHBAS. 

still  lingered  a  hospitable  moment  in  spite 
of  his  quick  eyes  and  the  jarring  impatience 
of  the  machinery,  he  added  hesitatingly,  "  I 
fancy  I've  wandered  off  the  track  a  bit.  Do 
you  know  a  Mr.  Bradley — somewhere  here  ?  " 

The  stranger's  hesitation  seemed  to  be 
more  from  some  habitual  conscientiousness 
of  statement  than  awkwardness.  The  man 
in  the  window  replied,  "  I  'm  Bradley." 

"  Ah !  Thank  you  :  I  Ve  a  letter  for  you 
—  somewhere.  Here  it  is."  He  produced  a 
note  from  his  breast-pocket.  Bradley  stooped 
to  a  sitting  posture  in  the  window.  "  Pitch 
it  up."  It  was  thrown  and  caught  cleverly. 
Bradley  opened  it,  read  it  hastily,  smiled 
and  nodded,  glanced  behind  him  as  if  to 
implore  further  delay  from  the  impatient 
machinery,  leaned  perilously  from  the  win- 
dow, and  said,  — 

"  Look  here !  Do  you  see  that  silver-fir 
straight  ahead?" 

"Yes." 

"  A  little  to  the  left  there 's  a  trail.  Fol- 
low it  and  skirt  along  the  edge  of  the  can- 
yon until  you  see  my  house.  Ask  for  my 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  11 

wife  —  that 's  Mrs.  Bradley  —  and  give  her 
your  letter.  Stop  !  "  He  drew  a  carpenter's 
pencil  from  his  pocket,  scrawled  two  or 
three  words  across  the  open  sheet  and  tossed 
it  back  to  the  stranger.  "See  you  at  tea ! 
Excuse  me  —  Mr.  Mainwaring  —  we  're 
short-handed  —  and  —  the  engine  "  —  But 
here  he  disappeared  suddenly. 

Without  glancing  at  the  note  again,  the 
stranger  quietly  replaced  it  in  his  pocket, 
and  struck  out  across  the  fallen  trunks 
towards  the  silver-fir.  He  quickly  found  the 
trail  indicated  by  Bradley,  although  it  was 
faint  and  apparently  worn  by  a  single  pair 
of  feet  as  a  shorter  and  private  cut  from 
some  more  travelled  path.  It  was  well  for 
the  stranger  that  he  had  a  keen  eye  or  he 
would  have  lost  it ;  it  was  equally  fortunate 
that  he  had  a  mountaineering  instinct,  for  a 
sudden  profound  deepening  of  the  blue  mist 
seen  dimly  through  the  leaves  before  him 
caused  him  to  slacken  his  steps.  The  trail 
bent  abruptly  to  the  right ;  a  gulf  fully  two 
thousand  feet  deep  was  at  his  feet !  It  was 
the  Great  Canyon. 


12  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

At  the  first  glance  it  seemed  so  narrow 
that  a  rifle-shot  could  have  crossed  its  tran- 
quil depths ;  but  a  second  look  at  the  com- 
parative size  of  the  trees  on  the  opposite 
mountain  convinced  him  of  his  error.  A 
nearer  survey  of  the  abyss  also  showed  him 
that  instead  of  its  walls  being  perpendicular 
they  were  made  of  successive  ledges  or  ter- 
races to  the  valley  below.  Yet  the  air  was 
so  still,  and  the  outlines  so  clearly  cut,  that 
they  might  have  been  only  the  reflections  of 
the  mountains  around  him  cast  upon  the 
placid  mirror  of  a  lake.  The  spectacle  ar- 
rested him,  as  it  arrested  all  men,  by  some 
occult  power  beyond  the  mere  attraction  of 
beauty  or  magnitude;  even  the  teamster 
never  passed  it  without  the  tribute  of  a  stone 
or  broken  twig  tossed  into  its  immeasurable 
profundity. 

Reluctantly  leaving  the  spot,  the  stranger 
turned  with  the  trail  that  now  began  to  skirt 
its  edge.  This  was  no  easy  matter,  as  the 
undergrowth  was  very  thick,  and  the  foliage 
dense  to  the  perilous  brink  of  the  precipice. 
He  walked  on,  however,  wondering  why 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  13 

Bradley  had  chosen  so  circuitous  and  dan- 
gerous a  route  to  his  house,  which  naturally 
would  be  some  distance  back  from  the  can- 
yon. At  the  end  of  ten  minutes'  struggling 
through  the  "  brush,"  the  trail  became  vague, 
and,  to  all  appearances,  ended.  Had  he  ar- 
rived ?  The  thicket  was  as  dense  as  before  ; 
through  the  interstices  of  leaf  and  spray  he 
could  see  the  blue  void  of  the  canyon  at  his 
side,  and  he  even  fancied  that  the  foliage 
ahead  of  him  was  more  symmetrical  and  less 
irregular,  and  was  touched  here  and  there 
with  faint  bits  of  color.  To  complete  his 
utter  mystification,  a  woman's  voice,  very 
fresh,  very  youthful,  and  by  no  means  un- 
musical, rose  apparently  from  the  circum- 
ambient air.  He  looked  hurriedly  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  even  hopelessly  into  the 
trees  above  him. 

"Yes,"  said  the  voice,  as  if  renewing  a 
suspended  conversation,  "it  was  too  funny 
for  anything.  There  were  the  two  Missouri 
girls  from  Skinner's,  with  their  auburn  hair 
ringletted,  my  dear,  like  the  old  '  Books  of 
Beauty '  —  in  white  frocks  and  sashes  of  an 


14  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

unripe  greenish  yellow,  that  puckered  up 
your  mouth  like  persimmons.  One  of  them 
was  speechless  from  good  behavior,  and  the 
other  —  well !  the  other  was  so  energetic  she 
called  out  the  figures  before  the  fiddler  did, 
and  shrieked  to  my  vis-a-vis  to  dance  up  to 
the  entire  stranger  —  meaning  me,  if  you 
please." 

The  voice  appeared  to  come  from  the  foli- 
age that  overhung  the  canon,  and  the  stran- 
ger even  fancied  he  could  detect  through 
the  shimmering  leafy  veil  something  that 
moved  monotonously  to  and  fro.  Mystified 
and  impatient,  he  made  a  hurried  stride  for- 
ward, his  foot  struck  a  wooden  step,  and  the 
next  moment  the  mystery  was  made  clear. 
He  had  almost  stumbled  upon  the  end  of  a 
long  veranda  that  projected  over  the  abyss 
before  a  low,  modern  dwelling,  till  then  in- 
visible, nestling  on  its  very  brink.  The 
symmetrically-trimmed  foliage  he  had  no- 
ticed were  the  luxuriant  Madeira  vines  that 
hid  the  rude  pillars  of  the  veranda ;  the 
moving  object  was  a  rocking-chair,  with  its 
back  towards  the  intruder,  that  disclosed 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  15 

only  the  brown  hair  above,  and  the  white 
skirts  and  small  slippered  feet  below,  of  a 
seated  female  figure.  In  the  mean  time,  a 
second  voice  from  the  interior  of  the  house 
had  replied  to  the  figure  in  the  chair,  who 
was  evidently  the  first  speaker  :  — 

"  It  must  have  been  very  funny ;  but  as 
long  as  Jim  is  always  bringing  somebody 
over  from  the  mill,  I  don't  see  how  /  can  go 
to  those  places.  You  were  lucky,  my  dear, 
to  escape  from  the  new  Division  Superin- 
tendent last  night ;  he  was  insufferable  to 
Jim  with  his  talk  of  his  friend  the  San  Fran- 
cisco millionaire,  and  to  me  with  his  cheap 
society  airs.  I  do  hate  a  provincial  fine 
gentleman." 

The  situation  was  becoming  embarrassing 
to  the  intruder.  At  the  apparition  of  the 
woman,  the  unaffected  and  simple  directness 
he  had  previously  shown  in  his  equally  ab- 
rupt contact  with  Bradley  had  fled  utterly ; 
confused  by  the  awkwardness  of  his  arrival, 
and  shocked  at  the  idea  of  overhearing  a 
private  conversation,  he  stepped  hurriedly  on 
the  veranda. 


16  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  Well  ?  go  on  !  "  said  the  second  voice 
impatiently.  "  Well,  who  else  was  there  ? 
What  did  you  say?  I  don't  hear  you. 
What 's  the  matter  ?  " 

The  seated  figure  had  risen  from  her  chair, 
and  turned  a  young  and  pretty  face  some- 
what superciliously  towards  the  stranger,  as 
she  said  in  a  low  tone  to  her  unseen  auditor, 
"Hush!  there  is  somebody  here." 

The  young  man  came  forward  with  an 
awkwardness  that  was  more  boyish  than  rus- 
tic. His  embarrassment  was  not  lessened 
by  the  simultaneous  entrance  from  the  open 
door  of  a  second  woman,  apparently  as 
young  as  and  prettier  than  the  first. 

"I  trust  you'll  excuse  me  for  —  for  — 
being  so  wretchedly  stupid,"  he  stammered, 
"  but  I  really  thought,  you  know,  that  — 
that  —  I  was  following  the  trail  to  —  to  — 
the  front  of  the  house,  when  I  stumbled  in 
—  in  here." 

Long  before  he  had  finished,  both  women, 
by  some  simple  feminine  intuition,  were  re- 
lieved and  even  prepossessed  by  his  voice 
and  manner.  They  smiled  graciously.  The 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  17 

later-comer  pointed  to  the  empty  chair.  But 
with  his  habit  of  pertinacious  conscientious- 
ness the  stranger  continued,  "  It  was  regu- 
larly stupid,  was  n't  it  ?  —  and  I  ought  to 
have  known  better.  I  should  have  turned 
back  and  gone  away  when  I  found  out  what 
an  ass  I  was  likely  to  be,  but  I  was  —  afraid 
—  you  know,  of  alarming  you  by  the  noise." 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  said  the  second 
lady,  pleasantly. 

"  Oh,  thanks !  I've  a  letter  here  —  I " — 
he  transferred  his  stick  and  hat  to  his  left 
hand  as  he  felt  in  his  breast-pocket  with  his 
right.  But  the  action  was  so  awkward  that 
the  stick  dropped  on  the  veranda.  Both 
women  made  a  movement  to  restore  it  to  its 
embarrassed  owner,  who,  however,  quickly 
anticipated  them.  "  Pray  don't  mind  it,"  he 
continued,  with  accelerated  breath  and 
heightened  color.  "  Ah,  here  's  the  letter  !  " 
He  produced  the  note  Bradley  had  returned 
to  him.  "  It 's  mine,  in  fact  —  that  is,  I 
brought  it  to  Mr.  Bradley.  He  said  I  was 
to  give  it  to  —  to  —  to  —  Mrs.  Bradley." 
He  paused,  glancing  embarrassedly  from 
the  one  to  the  other. 


18  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  I  'm  Mrs.  Bradley,"  said  the  prettiest 
one,  with  a  laugh.  He  handed  her  the  letter. 
It  ran  as  follows :  — 

44  DEAR  BRADLEY, —  Put  Mr.  Main  waring 
through  as  far  as  he  wants  to  go,  or  hang 
him  up  at  The  Lookout,  just  as  he  likes. 
The  Bank  's  behind  him,  and  his  hat  's 
chalked  all  over  the  Road ;  but  he  don't 
care  much  about  being  on  velvet.  That 
ain't  his  style  —  and  you  '11  like  him.  He  's 
somebody's  son  in  England.  B." 

Mrs.  Bradley  glanced  simply  at  the  first 
sentence.  "  Pray  sit  down,  Mr.  Mainwar- 
ing,"  she  said  gently ;  "  or,  rather,  let  me 
first  introduce  my  cousin  —  Miss  Macy." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Main  waring,  with  a  bow 
to  Miss  Macy,  "but  I  —  I  —  I  —  think," 
he  added  conscientiously,  "  you  did  not  no- 
tice that  your  husband  had  written  some- 
thing across  the  paper." 

Mrs.  Bradley  smiled,  and  glanced  at  her 
husband's  indorsement  —  "  All  right.  Wade 
in."  "  It 's  nothing  but  Jim's  slang,"  she 
said,  with  a  laugh  and  a  slightly  heightened 
color.  "  He  ought  not  to  have  sent  you  by 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  19 

that  short  cut ;  it 's  a  bother,  and  even  dan- 
gerous for  a  stranger.  If  you  had  come  di- 
rectly to  us  by  the  road,  without  making 
your  first  call  at  the  mill,"  she  added,  with 
a  touch  of  coquetry,  "  you  would  have  had 
a  pleasanter  walk,  and  seen  us  sooner.  I 
suppose,  however,  you  got  off  the  stage  at 
the  mill?" 

u  I  was  not  on  the  coach,"  said  Main  war- 
ing, unfastening  the  strap  of  his  knapsack. 
"  I  walked  over  from  Lone  Pine  Flat." 

"  Walked !  "  echoed  both  women  in  sim- 
ultaneous astonishment. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Main  waring  simply,  lay- 
ing aside  his  burden  and  taking  the  proffered 
seat.  "  It 's  a  very  fine  bit  of  country." 

"  Why,  it's  fifteen  miles,"  said  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley, glancing  horror-stricken  at  her  cousin. 
"  How  dreadful !  And  to  think  Jim  could 
have  sent  you  a  horse  to  Lone  Pine.  Why, 
you  must  be  dead  !  " 

"  Thanks,  I  'm  all  right !  I  rather  en- 
joyed it,  you  know." 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Macy,  glancing  wonder- 
ingly  at  his  knapsack,  "  you  must  want  some- 


20  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

thing,  a  change  —  or  some  refreshment  — 
after  fifteen  miles." 

"  Pray  don't  disturb  yourself,"  said  Main- 
waring,  rising  hastily,  but  not  quickly  enough 
to  prevent  the  young  girl  from  slipping  past 
him  into  the  house,  whence  she  rapidly  re- 
turned with  a  decanter  and  glasses. 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Mainwaring  would  prefer 
to  go  into  Jim's  room  and  wash  his  hands 
and  put  on  a  pair  of  slippers  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Bradley,  with  gentle  concern. 

"  Thanks,  no.  I  really  am  not  tired.  I 
sent  some  luggage  yesterday  by  the  coach  to 
the  Summit  Hotel,"  he  said,  observing  the 
women's  eyes  still  fixed  upon  his  knapsack. 
"  I  dare  say  I  can  get  them  if  I  want  them. 
I've  got  a  change  here,"  he  continued,  lift- 
ing the  knapsack  as  if  with  a  sudden  sense 
of  its  incongruity  with  its  surroundings,  and 
depositing  it  on  the  end  of  the  veranda. 

"  Do  let  it  remain  where  it  is,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradley,  greatly  amused,  "  and  pray  sit  still 
and  take  some  refreshment.  You'll  make 
yourself  ill  after  your  exertions,"  she  added, 
with  a  charming  assumption  of  matronly 
solicitude. 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS.  21 

"But  I'm  not  at  all  deserving  of  your 
sympathy,"  said  Main  waring,  with  a  laugh. 
"  I  'm  awfully  fond  of  walking,  and  my  usual 
constitutional  is  n't  much  under  this." 

"  Perhaps  you  were  stronger  than  you  are 
now,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  gazing  at  him  with 
a  frank  curiosity  that,  however,  brought  a 
faint  deepening  of  color  to  his  cheek. 

"  I  dare  say  you  're  right,"  he  said  sud- 
denly, with  an  apologetic  smile.  "  I  quite 
forgot  that  I  'm  a  sort  of  an  invalid,  you 
know,  travelling  for  my  health.  I  'm  not 
very  strong  here,"  he  added,  lightly  tapping 
his  chest,  that  now,  relieved  of  the  bands  of 
his  knapsack,  appeared  somewhat  thin  and 
hollow  in  spite  of  his  broad  shoulders.  His 
voice,  too,  had  become  less  clear  and  distinct. 

Mrs.  Bradley,  who  was  still  watching  him, 
here  rose  potentially.  "  You  ought  to  take 
more  care  of  yourself,"  she  said.  "  You 
should  begin  by  eating  this  biscuit,  drinking 
that  glass  of  whiskey,  and  making  yourself 
more  comfortable  in  Jim's  room  until  we  can 
get  the  spare  room  fixed  a  little." 

"  But  I  am  not  to  be  sent  to  bed  —  am 


22  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

I?"  asked  Mainwaring,  in  half -real,  half- 
amused  consternation. 

"I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley, with  playful  precision.  "  But  for  the 
present  we  '11  let  you  off  with  a  good  wash 
and  a  nap  afterwards  in  that  rocking-chair, 
while  my  cousin  and  I  make  some  little  do- 
mestic preparations.  You  see,"  she  added 
with  a  certain  proud  humility,  "  we  've  got 
only  one  servant  —  a  Chinaman,  and  there 
are  many  things  we  can't  leave  to  him." 

The  color  again  rose  in  Mainwaring's 
cheek,  but  he  had  tact  enough  to  reflect  that 
any  protest  or  hesitation  on  his  part  at  that 
moment  would  only  increase  the  difficulties 
of  his  gentle  entertainers.  He  allowed  him- 
self to  be  ushered  into  the  house  by  Mrs. 
Bradley,  and  shown  to  her  husband's  room, 
without  perceiving  that  Miss  Macy  had 
availed  herself  of  his  absence  to  run  to  the 
end  of  the  veranda,  mischievously  try  to 
lift  the  discarded  knapsack  to  her  own  pretty 
shoulder,  but,  failing,  heroically  stagger  with 
it  into  the  passage  and  softly  deposit  it  at 
his  door.  This  done,  she  pantingly  rejoined 
her  cousin  in  the  kitchen. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  23 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  emphatically. 
"  Did  you  ever  ?  Walking  fifteen  miles  for 
pleasure  —  and  with  such  lungs  !  " 

"  And  that  knapsack  !  "  added  Louise 
Macy,  pointing  to  the  mark  in  her  little  palm 
where  the  strap  had  imbedded  itself  in  the 
soft  flesh. 

"  He  's  nice,  though  ;  is  n't  he  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Bradley,  tentatively. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Macy,  "  he  is  n't,  cer- 
tainly, one  of  those  provincial  fine  gentlemen 
you  object  to.  But  did  you  see  his  shoes  ? 
I  suppose  they  make  the  miles  go  quickly, 
or  seem  to  measure  less  by  comparison." 

"  They  're  probably  more  serviceable  than 
those  high-heeled  things  that  Captain  Grey- 
son  hops  about  in." 

"  But  the  Captain  always  rides  —  and  rides 
very  well  —  you  know,"  said  Louise,  reflec- 
tively. There  was  a  moment's  pause. 

"  I  suppose  Jim  will  tell  us  all  about  him," 
said  Mrs.  Bradley,  dismissing  the  subject, 
as  she  turned  her  sleeves  back  over  her 
white  arms,  preparatory  to  grappling  certain 
culinary  difficulties. 


24  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  Jim,"  observed  Miss  Macy,  shortly,  "  in 
my  opinion,  knows  nothing  more  than  his 
note  says.  That 's  like  Jim." 

"  There  's  nothing  more  to  know,  really," 
said  Mrs.  Bradley,  with  a  superior  air. 
"  He  's  undoubtedly  the  son  of  some  Eng- 
lishman of  fortune,  sent  out  here  for  his 
health." 

"Hush!" 

Miss  Macy  had  heard  a  step  in  the  pas- 
sage. It  halted  at  last,  half  irresolutely, 
before  the  open  door  of  the  kitchen,  and  the 
stranger  appeared  with  an  embarrassed  air. 
But  in  his  brief  absence  he  seemed  to  have 
completely  groomed  himself,  and  stood  there, 
the  impersonation  of  close-cropped,  clean, 
and  wholesome  English  young  manhood. 
The  two  women  appreciated  it  with  cat-like 
fastidiousness. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  but  really  you  're 
going  to  let  a  fellow  do  something  for  you," 
he  said,  "  just  to  keep  him  from  looking  like 
a  fool.  I  really  can  do  no  end  of  things, 
you  know,  if  you  '11  try  me.  I  've  done  some 
camping-out,  and  can  cook  as  well  as  the 
next  man." 


A  PHYLLIS   OF   THE   8 1  ERE  AS.  25 

The  two  women  made  a  movement  of 
smiling  remonstrance,  half  coquettish,  and 
half  superior,  until  Mrs.  Bradley,  becoming 
conscious  of  her  bare  arms  and  the  stran- 
ger's wandering  eyes,  colored  faintly,  and 
said  with  more  decision  :  — 

"  Certainly  not.  You  'd  only  be  in  the 
way.  Besides,  you  need  rest  more  than  we 
do.  Put  yourself  in  the  rocking-chair  in 
the  veranda,  and  go  to  sleep  until  Mr. 
Bradley  comes." 

Mainwaring  saw  that  she  was  serious,  and 
withdrew,  a  little  ashamed  at  the  familiarity 
into  which  his  boyishness  had  betrayed  him. 
But  he  had  scarcely  seated  himself  in  the 
rocking-chair  before  Miss  Macy  appeared, 
carrying  with  both  hands  a  large  tin  basin 
of  unshelled  peas. 

"  There,"  she  said  pantingly,  placing  her 
burden  in  his  lap,  "  if  you  really  want  to 
help,  there  's  something  to  do  that  is  n't  very 
fatiguing.  You  may  shell  these  peas." 

"  Shell  them  —  I  beg  pardon,  but  how  ?  " 
he  asked,  with  smiling  earnestness. 

"  How  ?     Why,  I  '11  show  you  —  look." 


26  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

She  frankly  stepped  beside  him,  so  close 
that  her  full-skirted  dress  half  encompassed 
him  and  the  basin  in  a  delicious  confusion, 
and,  leaning  over  his  lap,  with  her  left  hand 
picked  up  a  pea-cod,  which,  with  a  single 
movement  of  her  charming  little  right 
thumb,  she  broke  at  the  end,  and  stripped 
the  green  shallow  of  its  tiny  treasures. 

He  watched  her  with  smiling  eyes  ;  her 
own,  looking  down  on  him,  were  very  bright 
and  luminous.  "  There ;  that 's  easy  enough," 
she  said,  and  turned  away. 

"But  —  one  moment,  Miss  —  Miss  —  ?" 

"  Macy,"  said  Louise. 

"  Where  am  I  to  put  the  shells  ?  " 

"Oh!  throw  them  down  there — there's 
room  enough." 

She  was  pointing  to  the  canyon  below. 
The  veranda  actually  projected  over  its 
brink,  and  seemed  to  hang  in  mid  air  above 
it.  Mainwaring  almost  mechanically  threw 
his  arm  out  to  catch  the  incautious  girl,  who 
had  stepped  heedlessly  to  its  extreme  edge. 

"  How  odd !  Don't  you  find  it  rather 
dangerous  here  ?  "  he  could  not  help  saying. 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.  27 

"I  mean  —  you  might  have  had  a  railing 
that  would  n't  intercept  the  view  and  yet  be 
safe  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  fancy  of  Mr.  Bradley's,"  returned 
the  young  girl  carelessly.  "  It  's  all  like  this. 
The  house  was  built  on  a  ledge  against  the 
side  of  the  precipice,  and  the  road  suddenly 
drops  down  to  it." 

"  It 's  tremendously  pretty,  all  the  same, 
you  know,"  said  the  young  man  thought- 
fully, gazing,  however,  at  the  girl's  rounded 
chin  above  him. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  curtly.  "  But  this 
isn't  working.  I  must  go  back  to  Jenny. 
You  can  shell  the  peas  until  Mr.  Bradley 
comes  home.  He  won't  be  long." 

She  turned  away,  and  reentered  the 
house.  Without  knowing  why,  he  thought 
her  withdrawal  abrupt,  and  he  was  again 
feeling  his  ready  color  rise  with  the  sus- 
picion of  either  having  been  betrayed  by  the 
young  girl's  innocent  fearlessness  into  some 
unpardonable  familiarity,  which  she  had 
quietly  resented,  or  of  feeling  an  ease  and 
freedom  in  the  company  of  these  two  women 


28  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

that   were    inconsistent    with    respect,    and 
should  be  restrained. 

He,  however,  began  to  apply  himself  to 
the  task  given  to  him  with  his  usual  con- 
scientiousness of  duty,  and  presently  ac- 
quired a  certain  manual  dexterity  in  the 
operation.  It  was  "  good  fun "  to  throw 
the  cast-off  husks  into  the  mighty  unfathom- 
able void  before  him,  and  watch  them  linger 
with  suspended  gravity  in  mid  air  for  a 
moment  —  apparently  motionless  —  until 
they  either  lost  themselves,  a  mere  vanishing 
black  spot  in  the  thin  ether,  or  slid  suddenly 
at  a  sharp  angle  into  unknown  shadow. 
How  deuced  odd  for  him  to  be  sitting  here 
in  this  fashion !  It  would  be  something  to 
talk  of  hereafter,  and  yet,  —  he  stopped  — 
it  was  not  at  all  in  the  line  of  that  charac- 
teristic adventure,  uncivilized  novelty,  and 
barbarous  freedom  which  for  the  last  month 
he  had  sought  and  experienced.  It  was  not 
at  all  like  his  meeting  with  the  grizzly  last 
week  while  wandering  in  a  lonely  canyon; 
not  a  bit  in  the  line  of  his  chance  acquaint- 
ance with  that  notorious  ruffian,  Spanish 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  29 

Jack,  or  his  witnessing  with  his  own  eyes 
that  actual  lynching  affair  at  Angels.  No  ! 
Nor  was  it  at  all  characteristic,  according  to 
his  previous  ideas  of  frontier  rural  seclusion 
—  as  for  instance  the  Pike  County  cabin  of 
the  family  where  he  stayed  one  night,  and 
where  the  handsome  daughter  asked  him 
what  his  Christian  name  was.  No  !  These 
two  young  women  were  very  unlike  her; 
they  seemed  really  quite  the  equals  of  his 
family  and  friends  in  England,  —  perhaps 
more  attractive,  —  and  yet,  yes,  it  was  this 
very  attractiveness  that  alarmed  his  inbred 
social  conservatism  regarding  women.  With 
a  man  it  was  very  different ;  that  alert,  ac- 
tive, intelligent  husband,  instinct  with  the 
throbbing  life  of  his  saw-mill,  creator  and 
worker  in  one,  challenged  his  unqualified 
trust  and  admiration. 

He  had  become  conscious  for  the  last 
minute  or  two  of  thinking  rapidly  and  be- 
coming feverishly  excited ;  of  breathing 
with  greater  difficulty,  and  a  renewed  ten- 
dency to  cough.  The  tendency  increased 
until  he  instinctively  put  aside  the  pan  from 


30  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

his  lap  and  half  rose.  But  even  that  slight 
exertion  brought  on  an  accession  of  cough- 
ing. He  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  lips, 
partly  to  keep  the  sound  from  disturbing 
the  women  in  the  kitchen,  partly  because 
of  a  certain  significant  taste  in  his  mouth 
which  he  unpleasantly  remembered.  When 
he  removed  the  handkerchief  it  was,  as  he 
expected,  spotted  with  blood.  He  turned 
quickly  and  reentered  the  house  softly,  re- 
gaining the  bedroom  without  attracting  at- 
tention. An  increasing  faintness  here 
obliged  him  to  lie  down  on  the  bed  until  it 
should  pass. 

Everything  was  quiet.  He  hoped  they 
would  not  discover  his  absence  from  the  ve- 
randa until  he  was  better ;  it  was  deucedly 
awkward  that  he  should  have  had  this  at- 
tack just  now  —  and  after  he  had  made  so 
light  of  his  previous  exertions.  They  would 
think  him  an  effeminate  fraud,  these  two 
bright,  active  women  and  that  alert,  ener- 
getic man.  A  faint  color  came  into  his  cheek 
at  the  idea,  and  an  uneasy  sense  that  he 
had  been  in  some  way  foolishly  imprudent 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.  31 

about  his  health.  Again,  they  might  be 
alarmed  at  missing  him  from  the  veranda ; 
perhaps  he  had  better  have  remained  there  ; 
perhaps  he  ought  to  tell  them  that  he  had 
concluded  to  take  their  advice  and  lie  down. 
He  tried  to  rise,  but  the  deep  blue  chasm 
before  the  window  seemed  to  be  swelling 
up  to  meet  him,  the  bed  slowly  sinking  into 
its  oblivious  profundity.  He  knew  no  more. 

He  came  to  with  the  smell  and  taste  of 
some  powerful  volatile  spirit,  and  the  vague 
vision  of  Mr.  Bradley  still  standing  at  the 
window  of  the  mill  and  vibrating  with  the 
machinery;  this  changed  presently  to  a 
pleasant  lassitude  and  lazy  curiosity  as  he 
perceived  Mr.  Bradley  smile  and  apparently 
slip  from  the  window  of  the  mill  to  his  bed- 
side. 

"  You  're  all  right  now,"  said  Bradley, 
cheerfully. 

He  was  feeling  Mainwaring's  pulse.  Had 
he  really  been  ill  and  was  Bradley  a  doctor  ? 

Bradley  evidently  saw  what  was  passing 
in  his  mind.  "  Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  said 
gayly.  "I  'm  not  a  doctor,  but  I  practise  a 


32  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

little  medicine  and  surgery  on  account  of 
the  men  at  the  mill,  and  accidents,  you 
know.  You  're  all  right  now  ;  you  've  lost 
a  little  blood :  but  in  a  couple  of  weeks  in 
this  air  we  '11  have  that  tubercle  healed,  and 
you  '11  be  as  right  as  a  trivet." 

"  In  a  couple  of  weeks !  "  echoed  Main- 
waring,  in  faint  astonishment.  "  Why,  I 
leave  here  to-morrow." 

"  You  '11  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said 
Mrs.  Bradley,  with  smiling  peremptoriness, 
suddenly  slipping  out  from  behind  her  hus- 
band. "  Everything  is  all  perfectly  arranged. 
Jim  has  sent  off  messengers  to  your  friends, 
so  that  if  you  can't  come  to  them,  they  can 
come  to  you.  You  see  you  can't  help  your- 
self !  If  you  will  walk  fifteen  miles  with 
such  lungs,  and  then  frighten  people  to 
death,  you  must  abide  by  the  consequences." 

"You  see  the  old  lady  has  fixed  you," 
said  Bradley,  smiling ;  "  and  she  's  the  mas- 
ter here.  Come,  Mainwaring,  you  can  send 
any  other  message  you  like,  and  have  who 
and  what  you  want  here  ;  but  here  you  must 
stop  for  a  while." 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIEREAS.  33 

"  But  did  I  frighten  you  really  ?  "  stam- 
mered Mainwaring,  faintly,  to  Mrs.  Bradley. 

"  Frighten  us  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bradley. 
"  Well,  look  there  !  " 

She  pointed  to  the  window,  which  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  veranda.  Miss  Macy 
had  dropped  into  the  vacant  chair,  with  her 
little  feet  stretched  out  before  her,  her 
cheeks  burning  with  heat  and  fire,  her  eyes 
partly  closed,  her  straw  hat  hanging  by  a 
ribbon  round  her  neck,  her  brown  hair  cling- 
ing to  her  ears  and  forehead  in  damp  ten- 
drils, and  an  enormous  palm-leaf  fan  in  each 
hand  violently  playing  upon  this  charming 
picture  of  exhaustion  and  abandonment. 

"  She  came  tearing  down  to  the  mill,  bare- 
backed on  our  half-broken  mustang,  about 
half  an  hour  ago,  to  call  me  4  to  help  you,'  " 
explained  Bradley.  "Heaven  knows  how 
she  managed  to  do  it !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  medication  of  the  woods  was  not 
overestimated  by  Bradley.  There  was  sure- 
ly some  occult  healing  property  in  that 
vast  reservoir  of  balmy  and  resinous  odors 
over  which  The  Lookout  beetled  and  clung, 
and  from  which  at  times  the  pure  exhala- 
tions of  the  terraced  valley  seemed  to  rise. 
Under  its  remedial  influence  and  a  conscien- 
tious adherence  to  the  rules  of  absolute  rest 
and  repose  laid  down  for  him,  Main  waring 
had  no  return  of  the  hemorrhage.  The 
nearest  professional  medical  authority,  hastily 
summoned,  saw  no  reason  for  changing  or  for 
supplementing  Bradley's  intelligent  and  sim- 
ple treatment,  although  astounded  that  the 
patient  had  been  under  no  more  radical  or 
systematic  cure  than  travel  and  exercise. 
The  women  especially  were  amazed  that 
Mainwaring  had  taken  "  nothing  for  it,"  in 
their  habitual  experience  of  an  unfettered 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  35 

pill-and-elixir  consuming  democracy.  In 
their  knowledge  of  the  thousand  "  panaceas  " 
that  filled  the  shelves  of  the  general  store, 
this  singular  abstention  of  their  guest 
seemed  to  indicate  a  national  peculiarity. 

His  bed  was  moved  beside  the  low  win- 
dow, from  which  he  could  not  only  view  the 
veranda  but  converse  at  times  with  its  oc- 
cupants, and  even  listen  to  the  book  which 
Miss  Macy,  seated  without,  read  aloud  to 
him.  In  the  evening  Bradley  would  linger 
by  his  couch  until  late,  beguiling  the  tedium 
of  his  convalescence  with  characteristic 
stories  and  information  which  he  thought 
might  please  the  invalid.  For  Main  waring, 
who  had  been  early  struck  with  Bradley's 
ready  and  cultivated  intelligence,  ended  by 
shyly  avoiding  the  discussion  of  more  serious 
topics,  partly  because  Bradley  impressed 
him  with  a  suspicion  of  his  own  inferiority, 
and  partly  because  Mainwaring  questioned 
the  taste  of  Bradley's  apparent  exhibition 
of  his  manifest  superiority.  He  learned 
accidentally  that  this  mill-owner  and  back- 
woodsman was  a  college-bred  man ;  but  the 


36  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

practical  application  of  that  education  to 
the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  was  new  to  the 
young  Englishman's  traditions,  and  grated 
a  little  harshly  on  his  feelings.  He  would 
have  been  quite  content  if  Bradley  had, 
like  himself  and  fellows  he  knew,  under- 
valued his  training,  and  kept  his  gifts  con- 
servatively impractical.  The  knowledge  also 
that  his  host's  education  naturally  came 
from  some  provincial  institution  unlike  Ox- 
ford and  Cambridge  may  have  unconsciously 
affected  his  general  estimate.  I  say  uncon- 
sciously, for  his  strict  conscientiousness 
would  have  rejected  any  such  formal  propo- 
sition. 

Another  trifle  annoyed  him.  He  could 
not  help  noticing  also  that  although  Brad- 
ley's  manner  and  sympathy  were  confiden- 
tial and  almost  brotherly,  he  never  made 
any  allusion  to  Mainwaring's  own  family  or 
connections,  and,  in  fact,  gave  no  indication 
of  what  he  believed  was  the  national  curios- 
ity in  regard  to  strangers.  Somewhat  em- 
barrassed by  this  indifference,  Main  waring 
made  the  occasion  of  writing  some  letters 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  37 

home  an  opportunity  for  laughingly  alluding 
to  the  fact  that  he  had  made  his  mother  and 
his  sisters  fully  aware  of  the  great  debt  they 
owed  the  household  of  The  Lookout. 

"  They  '11  probably  all  send  you  a  round 
robin  of  thanks,  except,  perhaps,  my  next 
brother,  Bob."  Bradley  contented  himself 
with  a  gesture  of  general  deprecation,  and 
did  not  ask  why  Mainwaring's  young  broth- 
er should  contemplate  his  death  with  satis- 
faction. Nevertheless,  some  time  after- 
wards Miss  Macy  remarked  that  it  seemed 
hard  that  the  happiness  of  one  member  of 
a  family  should  depend  upon  a  calamity  to 
another.  "  As  for  instance  ?  "  asked  Main- 
waring,  who  had  already  forgotten  the  cir- 
cumstance. "  Why,  if  you  had  died  and 
your  younger  brother  succeeded  to  the  bar- 
onetcy, and  become  Sir  Eobert  Mainwar- 
ing,"  responded  Miss  Macy,  with  precision. 
This  was  the  first  and  only  allusion  to  his 
family  and  prospective  rank.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  had  —  through  naive  and  boyish 
inquiries,  which  seemed  to  amuse  his  enter- 
tainers —  acquired,  as  he  believed,  a  full 


38  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

knowledge  of  the  history  and  antecedents 
of  the  Bradley  household.  He  knew  how 
Bradley  had  brought  his  young  wife  and  her 
cousin  to  California  and  abandoned  a  lucra- 
tive law  practice  in  San  Francisco  to  take 
possession  of  this  mountain  mill  and  wood- 
land, which  he  had  acquired  through  some 
professional  service. 

44  Then  you  are  a  barrister  really  ?  "  said 
Mainwaring,  gravely. 

Bradley  laughed.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  've  had 
more  practice  —  though  not  as  lucrative  a 
one  —  as  surgeon  or  doctor." 

"  But  you  're  regularly  on  the  rolls,  you 
know ;  you  're  entered  as  Counsel,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing  ?  "  continued  Mainwaring, 
with  great  seriousness. 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  Bradley,  much 
amused.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  must  plead  guilty 
to  that." 

44  It 's  not  a  bad  sort  of  thing,"  said  Main- 
waring,  naively,  ignoring  Bradley's  amuse- 
ment. "  I  've  got  a  cousin  who  's  gone  in 
for  the  law.  Got  out  of  the  army  to  do  it 
—  too.  He  's  a  sharp  fellow." 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  39 

"  Then  you  do  allow  a  man  to  try  many 
trades  —  over  there,"  said  Miss  Macy,  de- 
murely. 

"Yes,  sometimes,"  said  Mainwaring,  gra- 
ciously, but  by  no  means  certain  that  the 
case  was  at  all  analogous. 

Nevertheless,  as  if  relieved  of  certain 
doubts  of  the  conventional  quality  of  his 
host's  attainments,  he  now  gave  himself  up 
to  a  very  hearty  and  honest  admiration  of 
Bradley.  "  You  know  it 's  awfully  kind  of 
him  to  talk  to  a  fellow  like  me  who  just 
pulled  through,  and  never  got  any  prizes  at 
Oxford,  and  don't  understand  the  half  of 
these  things,"  he  remarked  confidentially  to 
Mrs.  Bradley.  "  He  knows  more  about  the 
things  we  used  to  go  in  for  at  Oxford  than 
lots  of  our  men,  and  he  's  never  been  there. 
He  's  uncommonly  clever." 

"  Jim  was  always  very  brilliant,"  returned 
Mrs.  Bradley,  indifferently,  and  with  more 
than  even  conventionally  polite  wifely  de- 
precation ;  "  I  wish  he  were  more  practical." 

" Practical!  Oh,  I  say,  Mrs.  Bradley! 
Why,  a  fellow  that  can  go  in  among  a  lot  of 


40  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

workmen  and  tell  them  just  what  to  do  —  an 
all-round  chap  that  can  be  independent  of 
his  valet,  his  doctor,  and  his  —  banker  !  By 
jove  —  that 's  practical !  " 

"I  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  coldly, 
"  that  there  are  some  things  that  a  gentle- 
man ought  not  to  be  practical  about  nor  in- 
dependent of.  Mr.  Bradley  would  have  done 
better  to  have  used  his  talents  in  some  more 
legitimate  and  established  way." 

Mainwaring  looked  at  her  in  genuine  sur- 
prise. To  his  inexperienced  observation 
Bradley's  intelligent  energy  and,  above  all, 
his  originality,  ought  to  have  been  priceless 
in  the  eyes  of  his  wife  —  the  American 
female  of  his  species.  He  felt  that  slight 
shock  which  most  loyal  or  logical  men  feel 
when  first  brought  face  to  face  with  the  easy 
disloyalty  and  incomprehensible  logic  of  the 
feminine  affections.  Here  was  a  fellow,  by 
Jove,  that  any  woman  ought  to  be  proud  of, 
and  —  and  —  he  stopped  blankly.  He  won- 
dered if  Miss  Macy  sympathized  with  her 
cousin. 

Howbeit,  this  did  not  affect  the  charm  of 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  41 

their  idyllic  life  at  The  Lookout.  The  pre- 
cipice over  which  they  hung  was  as  charm- 
ing as  ever  in  its  poetic  illusions  of  space 
and  depth  and  color ;  the  isolation  of  their 
comfortable  existence  in  the  tasteful  yet  au- 
dacious habitation,  the  pleasant  routine  of 
daily  tasks  and  amusements,  all  tended  to 
make  the  enforced  quiet  and  inaction  of  his 
convalescence  a  lazy  recreation.  He  was 
really  improving ;  more  than  that,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  certain  satisfaction  in  this 
passive  observation  of  novelty  that  was 
healthier  and  perhaps  truer  than  his  previous 
passion  for  adventure  and  that  febrile  desire 
for  change  and  excitement  which  he  now 
felt  was  a  part  of  his  disease.  Nor  were  in- 
cident and  variety  entirely  absent  from  this 
tranquil  experience.  He  was  one  day  aston- 
ished at  being  presented  by  Bradley  with 
copies  of  the  latest  English  newspapers,  pro- 
cured from  Sacramento,  and  he  equally  as- 
tonished his  host,  after  profusely  thanking 
him,  by  only  listlessly  glancing  at  their  col- 
umns. He  estopped  a  proposed  visit  from 
one  of  his  influential  countrymen  ;  in  the 


42  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

absence  of  his  fair  entertainers  at  their  do- 
mestic duties,  he  extracted  infinite  satisfac- 
tion from  Foo-Yup,  the  Chinese  servant,  who 
was  particularly  detached  for  his  service. 
From  his  invalid  coign  of  vantage  at  the 
window  he  was  observant  of  all  that  passed 
upon  the  veranda,  that  al-fresco  audience- 
room  of  The  Lookout,  and  he  was  good-hu- 
moredly  conscious  that  a  great  many  eccen- 
tric and  peculiar  visitors  were  invariably 
dragged  thither  by  Miss  Macy,  and  goaded 
into  characteristic  exhibition  within  sight 
and  hearing  of  her  guest,  with  a  too  evident 
view,  under  the  ostentatious  excuse  of  ex- 
tending his  knowledge  of  national  character, 
of  mischievously  shocking  him.  "When 
you  are  strong  enough  to  stand  Captain 
Gashweiler's  opinions  of  the  Established 
Church  and  Chinamen,"  said  Miss  Macy, 
after  one  of  those  revelations,  "  I  '11  get  Jim 
to  bring  him  here,  for  really  he  swears  so 
outrageously  that  even  in  the  broadest  in- 
terests of  international  understanding  and 
good-will  neither  Mrs.  Bradley  nor  myself 
could  be  present." 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  43 

On  another  occasion  she  provokingly  lin- 
gered before  his  window  for  a  moment  with 
a  rifle  slung  jauntily  over  her  shoulder.  "  If 
you  hear  a  shot  or  two  don't  excite  yourself, 
and  believe  we  're  having  a  lynching  case  in 
the  woods.  It  will  be  only  me.  There  's 
some  creature  —  confess,  you  expected  me  to 
say  4  critter '  —  hanging  round  the  barn. 
It  may  be  a  bear.  Good-by."  She  missed 
the  creature,  —  which  happened  to  be  really 
a  bear,  —  much  to  Main  waring' s  illogical  sat- 
isfaction. "  I  wonder  why,"  he  reflected, 
with  vague  uneasiness,  "she  doesn't  leave 
all  that  sort  of  thing  to  girls  like  that  tow- 
headed  girl  at  the  blacksmith's." 

It  chanced,  however,  that  this  blacksmith's 
tow-headed  daughter,  who,  it  may  be  inci- 
dentally remarked,  had  the  additional  ec- 
centricities of  large  black  eyes  and  large 
white  teeth,  came  to  the  fore  in  quite  another 
fashion.  Shortly  after  this,  Main  waring 
being  able  to  leave  his  room  and  join  the 
family  board,  Mrs.  Bradley  found  it  neces- 
sary to  enlarge  her  domestic  service,  and 
arranged  with  her  nearest  neighbor,  the 


44  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

blacksmith,  to  allow  his  daughter  to  come  to 
The  Lookout  for  a  few  days  to  "do  the 
chores"  and  assist  in  the  housekeeping,  as 
she  had  on  previous  occasions.  The  day  of 
her  advent  Bradley  entered  Mainwaring's 
room,  and,  closing  the  door  mysteriously, 
fixed  his  blue  eyes,  kindling  with  mischief, 
on  the  young  Englishman. 

"  You  are  aware,  my  dear  boy,"  he  began 
with  affected  gravity,  "that  you  are  now 
living  in  a  land  of  liberty,  where  mere  arti- 
ficial distinctions  are  not  known,  and  where 
Freedom  from  her  mountain  heights  gener- 
ally levels  all  social  positions.  I  think  you 
have  graciously  admitted  that  fact." 

"  I  know  I  Ve  been  taking  a  tremendous 
lot  of  freedom  with  you  and  yours,  old  man, 
and  it 's  a  deuced  shame,"  interrupted  Main- 
waring,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  And  that  nowhere,"  continued  Bradley, 
with  immovable  features,  "  does  equality  exist 
as  perfectly  as  above  yonder  unfathomable 
abyss,  where  you  have  also,  doubtless,  ob- 
served the  American  eagle  proudly  soars  and 
screams  defiance." 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  45 

"  Then  that  was  the  fellow  that  kept  me 
awake  this  morning,  and  made  me  wonder 
if  I  was  strong  enough  to  hold  a  gun  again." 

"  That  would  n't  have  settled  the  matter," 
continued  Bradley,  imperturbably.  "  The 
case  is  simply  this :  Miss  Minty  Sharpe, 
that  blacksmith's  daughter,  has  once  or 
twice  consented,  for  a  slight  emolument,  to 
assist  in  our  domestic  service  for  a  day  or 
two,  and  she  comes  back  again  to  -  day. 
Now,  under  the  aegis  of  that  noble  bird  whom 
your  national  instincts  tempt  you  to  destroy, 
she  has  on  all  previous  occasions  taken  her 
meals  with  us,  at  the  same  table,  on  terms 
of  perfect  equality.  She  will  naturally  ex- 
pect to  do  the  same  now.  Mrs.  Bradley 
thought  it  proper,  therefore,  to  warn  you, 
that,  in  case  your  health  was  not  quite  equal 
to  this  democratic  simplicity,  you  could  still 
dine  in  your  room." 

"  It  would  be  great  fun  —  if  Miss  Sharpe 
won't  object  to  my  presence." 

"  But  it  must  not  be  '  great  fun,'  "  re- 
turned Bradley,  more  seriously  ;  "  for  Miss 
Minty's  perception  of  humor  is  probably  as 


46  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

keen  as  yours,  and  she  would  be  quick  to 
notice  it.  And,  so  far  from  having  any  ob- 
jection to  you,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
we  owe  her  consent  to  come  to  her  desire  of 
making  your  acquaintance." 

"  She  will  find  my  conduct  most  exem- 
plary," said  Mainwaring,  earnestly. 

"  Let  us  hope  so,"  concluded  Bradley, 
with  unabated  gravity.  "And,  now  that 
you  have  consented,  let  me  add  from  my 
own  experience  that  Miss  Minty's  lemon- 
pies  alone  are  worthy  of  any  concession." 

The  dinner-hour  came.  Mainwaring,  a 
little  pale  and  interesting,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  Bradley,  crossed  the  hall,  and  for 
the  first  time  entered  the  dining-room  of  the 
house  where  he  had  lodged  for  three  weeks. 
It  was  a  bright,  cheerful  apartment,  giving 
upon  the  laurels  of  the  rocky  hillside,  and 
permeated,  like  the  rest  of  the  house,  with 
the  wholesome  spice  of  the  valley  —  an 
odor  that,  in  its  pure  desiccating  property, 
seemed  to  obliterate  all  flavor  of  alien  hu- 
man habitation,  and  even  to  dominate  and 
etherealize  the  appetizing  smell  of  the  viands 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  47 

before  them.  The  bare,  shining,  planed, 
boarded  walls  appeared  to  resent  any  deco- 
ration that  might  have  savored  of  dust,  de- 
cay, or  moisture.  The  four  large  windows 
and  long,  open  door,  set  in  scanty  strips  of 
the  plainest  spotless  muslin,  framed  in  them- 
selves pictures  of  woods  and  rock  and  sky 
of  limitless  depth,  color,  and  distance,  that 
made  all  other  adornment  impertinent.  Na- 
ture, invading  the  room  at  every  opening, 
had  banished  Art  from  those  neutral  walls. 

"It's  like  a  picnic,  with  comfort,"  said 
Main  waring,  glancing  round  him  with  boy- 
ish appreciation.  Miss  Minty  was  not  yet 
there ;  the  Chinaman  was  alone  in  attend- 
ance. Mainwaring  could  not  help  whisper- 
ing, half  mischievously,  to  Louise,  "  You 
draw  the  line  at  Chinamen,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  We  don't,  but  he  does,"  answered  the 
young  girl.  "  He  considers  us  his  social  in- 
feriors. But  —  hush !  " 

Minty  Sharpe  had  just  entered  the  room, 
and  was  advancing  with  smiling  confidence 
towards  the  table.  Mainwaring  was  a  little 
startled ;  he  had  seen  Minty  in  a  holland 


48  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

sun-bonnet  and  turned  up  skirt  crossing  the 
veranda,  only  a  moment  before ;  in  the 
brief  instant  between  the  dishing-up  of  din- 
ner and  its  actual  announcement  she  had 
managed  to  change  her  dress,  put  on  a  clean 
collar,  cuffs,  and  a  large  jet  brooch,  and 
apply  some  odorous  unguent  to  her  rebel- 
lious hair.  Her  face,  guiltless  of  powder  or 
cold  cream,  was  still  shining  with  the  healthy 
perspiration  of  her  last  labors  as  she 
promptly  took  the  vacant  chair  beside  Main- 
waring. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  folks,"  she  said  cheer- 
fully, resting  her  plump  elbow  on  the  table, 
and  addressing  the  company  generally,  but 
gazing  with  frank  curiosity  into  the  face  of 
the  young  man  at  her  side.  "  It  was  a  keen 
jump,  I  tell  yer,  to  get  out  of  my  old  duds 
inter  these,  and  look  decent  inside  o'  five 
minutes.  But  I  reckon  I  ain't  kept  yer 
waitin'  long  —  least  of  all  this  yer  sick 
stranger.  But  you're  looking  pearter  than 
you  did.  You  're  wonderin'  like  ez  not 
where  I  ever  saw  ye  before  ?  "  she  contin- 
ued, laughing.  "  Well,  I  '11  tell  you.  Last 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  49 

week !  I  'd  kem  over  yer  on  a  chance  of 
seein'  Jenny  Bradley,  and  while  I  was 
meanderin'  down  the  veranda  I  saw  you 
lyin'  back  in  your  chair  by  the  window 
drowned  in  sleep,  like  a  baby.  Lordy  !  I 
mout  hev  won  a  pair  o'  gloves,  but  I  reck- 
oned you  were  Loo's  game,  and  not  mine." 

The  slightly  constrained  laugh  which 
went  round  the  table  after  Miss  Minty's 
speech  was  due  quite  as  much  to  the  faint 
flush  that  had  accented  Main  waring' s  own 
smile  as  to  the  embarrassing  remark  itself. 
Mrs.  Bradley  and  Miss  Macy  exchanged 
rapid  glances.  Bradley,  who  alone  retained 
his  composure,  with  a  slight  flicker  of  amuse- 
ment in  the  corner  of  his  eye  and  nostril, 
said  quickly :  "  You  see,  Main  waring,  how 
nature  stands  ready  to  help  your  convales- 
cence at  every  turn.  If  Miss  Minty  had 
only  followed  up  her  healing  opportunity, 
your  cure  would  have  been  complete." 

"  Ye  mout  hev  left  some  o'  that  pretty 
talk  for  him  to  say,"  said  Minty,  taking  up 
her  knife  and  fork  with  a  slight  shrug, 
"  and  you  need  n't  call  me  Miss  Minty 


50  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

either,  jest  because  there  's  kempeny  pres- 
ent." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  look  upon  me  as  com- 
pany, Minty,  or  I  shall  be  obliged  to  call 
you  '  Miss '  too,"  said  Mainwaring,  unex- 
pectedly regaining  his  usual  frankness. 

Bradley's  face  brightened ;  Miss  Minty 
raised  her  black  eyes  from  her  plate  with 
still  broader  appreciation. 

"There's  nothin'  mean  about  that,"  she 
said,  showing  her  white  teeth.  "  Well, 
what 's  your  first  name?  " 

" Not  as  pretty  as  yours,  I'm  afraid.  It's 
Frank." 

"  No  it  ain't,  it 's  Francis !  You  reckon 
to  be  Sir  Francis  some  day,"  she  said 
gravely.  "You  can't  play  any  Frank  off 
on  me.  You  would  n't  do  it  on  her,"  she 
added,  indicating  Louise  with  her  elbow. 

A  momentous  silence  followed.  The  par- 
ticular form  that  Minty's  vulgarity  had 
taken  had  not  been  anticipated  by  the  two 
other  women.  They  had,  not  unreasonably, 
expected  some  original  audacity  or  gaucherie 
from  the  blacksmith's  daughter,  which  might 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  51 

astonish  yet  amuse  their  guest,  and  condone 
for  the  situation  forced  upon  them.  But 
they  were  not  prepared  for  a  playfulness 
that  involved  themselves  in  a  ridiculous  in- 
discretion. Mrs.  Bradley 's  eyes  sought  her 
husband's  meaningly  ;  Louise's  pretty  mouth 
hardened.  Luckily  the  cheerful  cause  of  it 
suddenly  jumped  up  from  the  table,  and 
saying  that  the  stranger  was  starving,  in- 
sisted upon  bringing  a  dish  from  the  other 
side  and  helping  him  herself  plentifully. 
Main  waring  rose  gallantly  to  take  the  dish 
from  her  hand,  a  slight  scuffle  ensued  which 
ended  in  the  young  man  being  forced  down 
in  his  chair  by  the  pressure  of  Minty's  strong 
plump  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  There,"  she 
said,  "ye  kin  mind  your  dinner  now,  and  I 
reckon  we  '11  give  the  others  a  chance  to  chip 
into  the  conversation,"  and  at  once  applied 
herself  to  the  plate  before  her. 

The  conversation  presently  became  gen- 
eral, with  the  exception  that  Minty,  more  or 
less  engrossed  by  professional  anxiety  in  the 
quality  of  the  dinner  and  occasional  hurried 
visits  to  the  kitchen,  briefly  answered  the 


52  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

few  polite  remarks  which  Mainwaring  felt 
called  upon  to  address  to  her.  Neverthe- 
less, he  was  conscious,  malgr6  her  rallying 
allusions  to  Miss  Macy,  that  he  felt  none  of 
the  vague  yet  half  pleasant  anxiety  with 
which  Louise  was  beginning  to  inspire  him. 
He  felt  at  ease  in  Minty's  presence,  and  be- 
lieved, rightly  or  wrongly,  that  she  under- 
stood him  as  well  as  he  understood  her. 
And  there  were  certainly  points  in  common 
between  his  two  hostesses  and  their  humbler 
though  proud  dependant.  The  social  evolu- 
tion of  Mrs.  Bradley  and  Louise  Macy  from 
some  previous  Minty  was  neither  remote  nor 
complete ;  the  self-sufficient  independence, 
ease,  and  quiet  self-assertion  were  alike  in 
each.  The  superior  position  was  still  too 
recent  and  accidental  for  either  to  resent  or 
criticise  qualities  that  were  common  to  both. 
At  least,  this  was  what  he  thought  when  not 
abandoning  himself  to  the  gratification  of 
a  convalescent  appetite ;  to  the  presence  of 
two  pretty  women,  the  sympathy  of  a  genial 
friend,  the  healthy  intoxication  of  the  white 
sunlight  that  glanced  upon  the  pine  walls, 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  53 

the  views  that  mirrored  themselves  in  the 
open  windows,  and  the  pure  atmosphere  in 
which  The  Lookout  seemed  to  swim.  Wan- 
dering breezes  of  balm  and  spice  lightly 
stirred  the  flowers  on  the  table,  and  seemed 
to  fan  his  hair  and  forehead  with  softly 
healing  breath.  Looking  up  in  an  interval 
of  silence,  he  caught  Bradley's  gray  eyes 
fixed  upon  him  with  a  subdued  light  of 
amusement  and  affection,  as  of  an  elder 
brother  regarding  a  schoolboy's  boisterous 
appetite  at  some  feast.  Mainwaring  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork  with  a  laughing 
color,  touched  equally  by  Bradley's  fraternal 
kindliness  and  the  consciousness  of  his  gas- 
tronomical  powers. 

"  Hang  it,  Bradley  ;  look  here !  I  know 
my  appetite's  disgraceful,  but  what  can  a 
fellow  do?  In  such  air,  with  such  viands 
and  such  company  !  It 's  like  the  bees  get- 
ting drunk  on  Hybla  and  Hymettus,  you 
know.  I  'm  not  responsible  !  " 

"It's  the  first  square  meal  I  believe 
you  've  really  eaten  in  six  months,"  said 
Bradley,  gravely.  "  I  can't  understand  why 


54  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

your  doctor  allowed  you  to  run  down  so 
dreadfully." 

"  I  reckon  you  ain't  as  keerful  of  yourself, 
you  Britishers,  ez  us,"  said  Minty.  "Lordy! 
Why  there 's  Pop  invests  in  more  patent 
medicines  in  one  day  than  you  have  in  two 
weeks,  and  he  'd  make  two  of  you.  Mebbe 
your  folks  don't  look  after  you  enough." 

"  I  'm  a  splendid  advertisement  of  what 
your  care  and  your  medicines  have  done," 
said  Mainwaring,  gratefully,  to  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley ;  "  and  if  you  ever  want  to  set  up  a 
'  Cure '  here,  I  'm  ready  with  a  ten-page  tes- 
timonial." 

"  Have  a  care,  Mainwaring,"  said  Brad- 
ley, laughing,  "  that  the  ladies  don't  take 
you  at  your  word.  Louise  and  Jenny  have 
been  doing  their  best  for  the  last  year  to  get 
me  to  accept  a  flattering  offer  from  a  Sac- 
ramento firm  to  put  up  a  hotel  for  tourists 
on  the  site  of  The  Lookout.  Why,  I  be- 
lieve that  they  have  already  secretly  in  their 
hearts  concocted  a  flaming  prospectus  of 
4  Unrivalled  Scenery  '  and  '  Health  -  giving 
Air,'  and  are  looking  forward  to  Saturday 
night  hops  on  the  piazza." 


A  PHYLLIS   OF   THE  SIERRAS.  55 

"  Have  you  really,  though  ?  "  said  Main- 
waring,  gazing  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

"  We  should  certainly  see  more  company 
than  we  do  now,  and  feel  a  little  less  out  of 
the  world,"  said  Louise,  candidly.  "  There 
are  no  neighbors  here  —  I  mean  the  people 
at  the  Summit  are  not,"  she  added,  with  a 
slight  glance  towards  Minty. 

"  And  Mr.  Bradley  would  find  it  more 
profitable  —  not  to  say  more  suitable  to  a 
man  of  his  position  —  than  this  wretched 
saw-mill  and  timber  business,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradley,  decidedly. 

Main  waring  was  astounded  ;  was  it  possi- 
ble they  considered  it  more  dignified  for  a 
lawyer  to  keep  a  hotel  than  a  saw -mill? 
Bradley,  as  if  answering  what  was  passing 
in  his  mind,  said  mischievously,  "I'm  not 
sure,  exactly,  what  my  position  is,  my  dear, 
and  I  'm  afraid  I  've  declined  the  hotel  on 
business  principles.  But,  by-the-way,  Main- 
waring,  I  found  a  letter  at  the  mill  this 
morning  from  Mr.  Richardson.  He  is  about 
to  pay  us  the  distinguished  honor  of  visiting 
The  Lookout,  solely  on  your  account,  my 
dear  fellow." 


56  A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS. 

"  But  I  wrote  him  that  I  was  much  better, 
and  it  was  n't  necessary  for  him  to  come," 
said  Mainwaring. 

"  He  makes  an  excuse  of  some  law  busi- 
ness with  me.  I  suppose  he  considers  the 
mere  fact  of  his  taking  the  trouble  to  come 
here,  all  the  way  from  San  Francisco,  a  suf- 
ficient honor  to  justify  any  absence  of  formal 
invitation,"  said  Bradley,  smiling. 

"  But  he  's  only  —  I  mean  he  's  my  father's 
banker,"  said  Mainwaring,  correcting  him- 
self, "  and  —  you  don't  keep  a  hotel." 

"  Not  yet,"  returned  Bradley,  with  a  mis- 
chievous glance  at  the  two  women,  "  but  The 
Lookout  is  elastic,  and  I  dare  say  we  can 
manage  to  put  him  up." 

A  silence  ensued.  It  seemed  as  if  some 
shadow,  or  momentary  darkening  of  the  bril- 
liant atmosphere ;  some  film  across  the  mir- 
ror-like expanse  of  the  open  windows,  or 
misty  dimming  of  their  wholesome  light,  had 
arisen  to  their  elevation.  Mainwaring  felt 
that  he  was  looking  forward  with  unreason- 
ing indignation  and  uneasiness  to  this  im- 
pending interruption  of  their  idyllic  life; 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  57 

Mrs.  Bradley  and  Louise,  who  had  become 
a  little  more  constrained  and  formal  under 
Minty's  freedom,  were  less  sympathetic ; 
even  the  irrepressible  Minty  appeared  ab- 
sorbed in  the  responsibilities  of  the  dinner. 

Bradley  alone  preserved  his  usual  patient 
good-humor.  "  We  11  take  our  coffee  on  the 
veranda,  and  the  ladies  will  join  us  by  and 
by,  Mainwaring ;  besides,  I  don't  know  that 
I  can  allow  you,  as  an  invalid,  to  go  entirely 
through  Minty's  bountiful  menu  at  present. 
You  shall  have  the  sweets  another  time." 

When  they  were  alone  on  the  veranda, 
he  said,  between  the  puffs  of  his  black  brier- 
wood  pipe,  —  a  pet  aversion  of  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley, —  "I  wonder  how  Richardson  will  ac- 
cept Minty ! " 

"  If  /  can,  I  think  he  must"  returned 
Mainwaring,  dryly.  "  By  Jove,  it  will  be 
great  fun  to  see  him ;  but "  —  he  stopped 
and  hesitated  —  "I  don't  know  about  the 
ladies.  I  don't  think,  you  know,  that  they  '11 
stand  Minty  again  before  another  stranger." 

Bradley  glanced  quickly  at  the  young 
man ;  their  eyes  met,  and  they  both  joined 


58  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

in  a  superior  and,  I  fear,  disloyal  smile. 
After  a  pause  Bradley,  as  if  in  a  spirit  of 
further  confidence,  took  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth  and  pointed  to  the  blue  abyss  before 
them. 

"  Look  at  that  profundity,  Mainwaring, 
and  think  of  it  ever  being  bullied  and  over- 
awed by  a  long  veranda -load  of  gaping, 
patronizing  tourists,  and  the  idiotic  flirting 
females  of  their  species.  Think  of  a  lot  of 
over-dressed  creatures  flouting  those  severe 
outlines  and  deep-toned  distances  with  frip- 
pery and  garishness.  You  know  how  you 
have  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  that  delicious, 
indefinite,  far-off  murmur  of  the  canyon  at 
night  —  think  of  it  being  broken  by  a  crazy 
waltz  or  a  monotonous  German  —  by  the 
clatter  of  waiters  and  the  pop  of  champagne 
corks.  And  yet,  by  thunder,  those  women 
are  capable  of  liking  both  and  finding  no 
discord  in  them  !  " 

"  Dancing  ain't  half  bad,  you  know,"  said 
Mainwaring,  conscientiously,  "if  a  chap  's 
got  the  wind  to  do  it ;  and  all  Americans, 
especially  the  women,  dance  better  than  we 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  TEE  SIERRAS.  59 

do.  But  I  say,  Bradley,  to  hear  you  talk, 
a  fellow  would  n't  suspect  you  were  as  big  a 
Vandal  as  anybody,  with  a  beastly,  howling 
saw-mill  in  the  heart  of  the  primeval  forest. 
By  Jove,  you  quite  bowled  me  over  that  first 
day  we  met,  when  you  popped  your  head  out 
of  that  delirium  tremens  shaking  mill,  like 
the  very  genius  of  destructive  improvement." 

"  But  that  *f&§  fighting  Nature,  not  patron- 
izing her ;  and  it 's  a  business  that  pays. 
That  reminds  me  that  I  must  go  back  to  it," 
said  Bradley,  rising  and  knocking  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe. 

"  Not  after  dinner,  surely !  "  said  Main- 
waring,  in  surprise.  "  Come  now,  that 's  too 
much  like  the  bolting  Yankee  of  the  trav- 
ellers' books." 

"  There  's  a  heavy  run  to  get  through  to- 
night. We  're  working  against  time,"  re- 
turned Bradley.  Even  while  speaking  he 
had  vanished  within  the  house,  returned 
quickly  —  having  replaced  his  dark  suit  by 
jean  trousers  tucked  in  heavy  boots,  and  a 
red  flannel  shirt  over  his  starched  white  one 
— and,  nodding  gayly  to  Main  waring,  stepped 


60  A  PHYLLIS   OF   THE  SIERRAS. 

from  the  lower  end  of  the  veranda.  "  The 
beggar  actually  looks  pleased  to  go,"  said 
Main  war  ing  to  himself  in  wonderment. 

"  Oh !  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  appearing 
at  the  door. 

"Yes,"  said  Bradley,  faintly,  from  the 
bushes. 

"Minty's  ready.  You  might  take  her 
home." 

"  All  right.     I  '11  wait." 

"  I  hope  I  have  n't  frightened  Miss  Sharpe 
away,"  said  Main  waring.  "  She  isn't  going, 
surely  ?  " 

"  Only  to  get  some  better  clothes,  on  ac- 
count of  company.  I  'm  afraid  you  are  giv- 
ing her  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  Mr.  Main- 
waring,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  laughing. 

"  She  wished  me  to  say  good-by  to  you  for 
her,  as  she  could  n't  come  on  the  veranda 
in  her  old  shawl  and  sun -bonnet,"  added 
Louise,  who  had  joined  them.  "  What  do 
you  really  think  of  her,  Mr.  Main  waring  ? 
I  call  her  quite  pretty,  at  times.  Don't  you?  " 

Mainwaring  knew  not  what  to  say.  He 
could  not  understand  why  they  could  have 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  61 

any  special  interest  in  the  girl,  or  care  to 
know  what  he,  a  perfect  stranger,  thought  of 
her.  He  avoided  a  direct  reply,  however,  by 
playfully  wondering  how  Mrs.  Bradley  could 
subject  her  husband  to  Miss  Minty's  undi- 
vided fascinations. 

"  Oh,  Jim  always  takes  her  home  —  if  it 's 
in  the  evening.  He  gets  along  with  these 
people  better  than  we  do,"  returned  Mrs. 
Bradley,  dryly.  "But,"  she  added,  with  a 
return  of  her  piquant  Quaker-like  coquettish- 
ness,  "  Jim  says  we  are  to  devote  ourselves 
to  you  to-night  —  in  retaliation,  I  suppose. 
We  are  to  amuse  you,  and  not  let  you  get 
excited ;  and  you  are  to  be  sent  to  bed  early." 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  these  latter  wise 
precautions  —  invaluable  for  all  defenceless 
and  enfeebled  humanity  —  were  not  carried 
out :  and  it  was  late  when  Mainwaring  event- 
ually retired,  with  brightened  eyes  and  a 
somewhat  accelerated  pulse.  For  the  ladies, 
who  had  quite  regained  that  kindly  equa- 
nimity which  Minty  had  rudely  interrupted, 
had  also  added  a  delicate  and  confidential 
sympathy  in  their  relations  with  Mainwar- 


62  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

ing,  —  as  of  people  who  had  suffered  in  com- 
mon, —  and  he  experienced  these  tender  at- 
tentions at  their  hands  which  any  two  women 
are  emboldened  by  each  other's  saving  pres- 
ence to  show  any  single  member  of  our  sex. 
Indeed,  he  hardly  knew  if  his  satisfaction 
was  the  more  complete  when  Mrs.  Bradley, 
withdrawing  for  a  few  moments,  left  him 
alone  on  the  veranda  with  Louise  and  the 
vast,  omnipotent  night. 

For  a  while  they  sat  silent,  in  the  midst  of 
the  profound  and  measureless  calm.  Look- 
ing down  upon  the  dim  moonlit  abyss  at 
their  feet,  they  themselves  seemed  a  part  of 
this  night  that  arched  above  it;  the  half- 
risen  moon  appeared  to  linger  long  enough 
at  their  side  to  enwrap  and  suffuse  them 
with  its  glory;  a  few  bright  stars  quietly 
ringed  themselves  around  them,  and  looked 
wonderingly  into  the  level  of  their  own 
shining  eyes.  For  some  vague  yearning  to 
humanity  seemed  to  draw  this  dark  and 
passionless  void  towards  them.  The  vast 
protecting  maternity  of  Nature  leant  hushed 
and  breathless  over  the  solitude.  Warm 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  63 

currents  of  air  rose  occasionally  from  the  val- 
ley, which  one  might  have  believed  were 
sighs  from  its  full  and  overflowing  breast,  or 
a  grateful  coolness  swept  their  cheeks  and 
hair  when  the  tranquil  heights  around  them 
were  moved  to  slowly  respond.  Odors 
from  invisible  bay  and  laurel  sometimes 
filled  the  air ;  the  incense  of  some  rare  and 
remoter  cultivated  meadow  beyond  their  ken, 
or  the  strong  germinating  breath  of  leagues 
of  wild  oats,  that  had  yellowed  the  upland 
by  day.  In  the  silence  and  shadow,  their 
voices  took  upon  themselves,  almost  without 
their  volition,  a  far-off  confidential  murmur, 
with  intervals  of  meaning  silence  —  rather 
as  if  their  thoughts  had  spoken  for  them- 
selves, and  they  had  stopped  wonderingly  to 
listen.  They  talked  at  first  vaguely  to  this 
discreet  audience  of  space  and  darkness,  and 
then,  growing  bolder,  spoke  to  each  other 
and  of  themselves.  Invested  by  the  infinite 
gravity  of  nature,  they  had  no  fear  of  human 
ridicule  to  restrain  their  youthful  conceit  or 
the  extravagance  of  their  unimportant  con- 
fessions. They  talked  of  their  tastes,  of 


64  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

their  habits,  of  their  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances. They  settled  some  points  of  doctrine, 
duty,  and  etiquette,  with  the  sweet  serious- 
ness of  youth  and  its  all-powerful  convic- 
tions. The  listening  vines  would  have  recog- 
nized no  flirtation  or  love-making  in  their 
animated  but  important  confidences ;  yet 
when  Mrs.  Bradley  reappeared  to  warn  the 
invalid  that  it  was  time  to  seek  his  couch, 
they  both  coughed  slightly  in  the  nervous 
consciousness  of  some  unaccustomed  quality 
in  their  voices,  and  a  sense  of  interruption 
far  beyond  their  own  or  the  innocent  intru- 
der's ken. 

44  Well  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  in  the  sit- 
ting-room as  Main  waring' s  steps  retreated 
down  the  passage  to  his  room. 

44  Well,"  said  Louise  with  a  slight  yawn, 
leaning  her  pretty  shoulders  languidly 
against  the  door-post,  as  she  shaded  her 
moonlight-accustomed  eyes  from  the  vulgar 
brilliancy  of  Mrs.  Bradley's  bedroom  candle. 
44  Well  —  oh,  he  talked  a  great  deal  about 
4  his  people '  as  he  called  them,  and  I  talked 
about  us.  He  's  very  nice.  You  know  in 
some  things  he  's  really  like  a  boy." 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  65 

"  He  looks  much  better." 
"  Yes  ;  but  lie  is  far  from  strong  yet." 
Meantime,  Mainwaring  had  no  other  con- 
fidant of  his  impressions  than  his  own 
thoughts.  Mingled  with  his  exaltation, 
which  was  the  more  seductive  that  it  had  no 
well-defined  foundation  for  existing,  and  im- 
plied no  future  responsibility,  was  a  recur- 
rence of  his  uneasiness  at  the  impending 
visit  of  Eichardson  the  next  day.  Strangely 
enough,  it  had  increased  under  the  stimulus 
of  the  evening.  Just  as  he  was  really  get- 
ting on  with  the  family,  he  felt  sure  that 
this  visitor  would  import  some  foreign  ele- 
ment into  their  familiarity,  as  Minty  had 
done.  It  was  very  possible  they  would  not 
like  him :  now  he  remembered  there  was 
really  something  ostentatiously  British  and 
insular  about  this  Richardson  —  something 
they  would  likely  resent.  Why  could  n't  this 
fellow  have  come  later — or  even  before? 
Before  what  ?  But  here  he  fell  asleep,  and 
almost  instantly  slipped  from  this  veranda  in 
the  Sierras,  six  thousand  miles  away,  to  an 
ancient  terrace,  overgrown  with  moss  and 


66  A  PHYLLIS  OF  TEE  SIERRAS. 

tradition,  that  overlooked  the  sedate  glory  of 
an  English  park.  Here  he  found  himself,  re- 
stricted painfully  by  his  inconsistent  night- 
clothes,  endeavoring  to  impress  his  mother 
and  sisters  with  the  singular  virtues  and  ex- 
cellences of  his  American  host  and  hostesses 
—  virtues  and  excellences  that  he  himself 
was  beginning  to  feel  conscious  had  become 
more  or  less  apocryphal  in  that  atmosphere. 
He  heard  his  mother's  voice  saying  severely, 
"When  you  learn,  Francis,  to  respect  the 
opinions  and  prejudices  of  your  family 
enough  to  prevent  your  appearing  before 
them  in  this  uncivilized  aboriginal  costume, 
we  will  listen  to  what  you  have  to  say  of 
the  friends  whose  habits  you  seem  to  have 
adopted  ;  "  and  he  was  frantically  indignant 
that  his  efforts  to  convince  them  that  his 
negligence  was  a  personal  oversight,  and  not 
a  Californian  custom,  were  utterly  futile. 
But  even  then  this  vision  was  brushed  away 
by  the  bewildering  sweep  of  Louise's  pretty 
skirt  across  the  dreamy  picture,  and  her  del- 
icate features  and  softly-fringed  eyes  re- 
mained the  last  to  slip  from  his  fading  con- 
sciousness. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  67 

The  moon  rose  higher  and  higher  above 
the  sleeping  house  and  softly  breathing  can- 
yon. There  was  nothing  to  mar  the  idyllic 
repose  of  the  landscape  ;  only  the  growing 
light  of  the  last  two  hours  had  brought  out 
in  the  far  eastern  horizon  a  dim  white  peak, 
that  gleamed  faintly  among  the  stars,  like  a 
bridal  couch  spread  between  the  hills  ringed 
with  fading  nuptial  torches.  No  one  would 
have  believed  that  behind  that  impenetrable 
shadow  to  the  west,  in  the  heart  of  the  for- 
est, the  throbbing  saw-mill  of  James  Bradley 
was  even  at  that  moment  eating  its  destruc- 
tive way  through  the  conserved  growth  of 
Nature  and  centuries,  and  that  the  refined 
proprietor  of  house  and  greenwood,  with  the 
glow  of  his  furnace  fires  on  his  red  shirt,  and 
his  alert,  intelligent  eyes,  was  the  genie  of 
that  devastation,  and  the  toiling  leader  of 
the  shadowy,  toiling  figures  around  him. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AMID  the  beauty  of  the  most  uncultivated 
and  untrodden  wilderness  there  are  certain 
localities  where  the  meaner  and  more  com- 
mon processes  of  Nature  take  upon  them- 
selves a  degrading  likeness  to  the  slovenly, 
wasteful,  and  improvident  processes  of  man. 
The  unrecorded  landslip  disintegrating  a 
whole  hillside  will  not  only  lay  bare  the 
delicate  framework  of  strata  and  deposit  to 
the  vulgar  eye,  but  hurl  into  the  valley  a 
debris  so  monstrous  and  unlovely  as  to 
shame  even  the  hideous  ruins  left  by  dyna- 
mite, hydraulic,  or  pick  and  shovel ;  an 
overflown  and  forgotten  woodland  torrent 
will  leave  in  some  remote  hollow  a  disturbed 
and  ungraceful  chaos  of  inextricable  logs, 
branches,  rock,  and  soil  that  will  rival  the 
unsavory  details  of  some  wrecked  or  aban- 
doned settlement.  Of  lesser  magnitude  and 
importance,  there  are  certain  natural  dust- 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  69 

\ 

heaps,  sinks,  and  cesspools,  where  the  ele- 
ments have  collected  the  cast-off,  broken, 
and  frayed  disjecta  of  wood  and  field  —  the 
sweepings  of  the  sylvan  household.  It  was 
remarkable  that  Nature,  so  kindly  consider- 
ate of  mere  human  ruins,  made  no  attempt 
to  cover  up  or  disguise  these  monuments  of 
her  own  mortality  :  no  grass  grew  over  the 
unsightly  landslides,  no  moss  or  ivy  clothed 
the  stripped  and  bleached  skeletons  of  over- 
thrown branch  and  tree ;  the  dead  leaves 
and  withered  husks  rotted  in  their  open 
grave  uncrossed  by  vine  and  creeper.  Even 
the  animals,  except  the  lower  organizations, 
shunned  those  haunts  of  decay  and  ruin. 

It  was  scarcely  a  hundred  yards  from  one 
of  those  dreary  receptacles  that  Mr.  Bradley 
had  taken  leave  of  Miss  Minty  Sharpe. 
The  cabin  occupied  by  her  father,  herself, 
and  a  younger  brother,  stood,  in  fact,  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  little  hollow,  which  was 
partly  filled  with  decayed  wood,  leaves,  and 
displacements  of  the  crumbling  bank,  with 
the  coal  dust  and  ashes  which  Mr.  Sharpe 
had  added  from  his  forge,  that  stood  a  few 


70  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

paces  distant  at  the  corner  of  a  cross-road. 
The  occupants  of  the  cabin  had  also  contrib- 
uted to  the  hollow  the  refuse  of  their  house- 
hold in  broken  boxes,  earthenware,  tin  cans, 
and  cast-off  clothing ;  and  it  is  not  improb- 
able that  the  site  of  the  cabin  was  chosen 
with  reference  to  this  convenient  disposal  of 
useless  and  encumbering  impedimenta.  It 
was  true  that  the  locality  offered  little 
choice  in  the  way  of  beauty.  An  outcrop  of 
brown  granite  —  a  portent  of  higher  alti- 
tudes —  extended  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  nearest  fringe  of  dwarf  laurel  and 
"  brush  "  in  one  direction ;  in  the  other  an 
advanced  file  of  Bradley 's  woods  had  suf- 
fered from  some  long-forgotten  fire,  and 
still  raised  its  blackened  masts  and  broken 
stumps  over  the  scorched  and  arid  soil, 
swept  of  older  underbrush  and  verdure.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  road  a  dark  ravine, 
tangled  with  briers  and  haunted  at  night  by 
owls  and  wild  cats,  struggled  wearily  on, 
until  blundering  at  last  upon  the  edge  of  the 
Great  Canyon,  it  slipped  and  lost  itself  for- 
ever in  a  single  furrow  of  those  mighty 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIJEKRAS.  71 

flanks.  When  Bradley  had  once  asked 
Sharpe  why  he  had  not  built  his  house  in 
the  ravine,  the  blacksmith  had  replied : 
"That  until  the  Lord  had  appointed  his 
time,  he  reckoned  to  keep  his  head  above 
ground  and  the  foundations  thereof."  How- 
beit,  the  ravine,  or  the  "  run "  as  it  was 
locally  known,  was  Minty's  only  Saturday- 
afternoon  resort  for  recreation  or  berries. 
"It  was,"  she  had  explained,  "  pow'ful 
soothin',  and  solitary." 

She  entered  the  house  —  a  rude,  square 
building  of  unpainted  boards  —  containing 
a  sitting-room,  a  kitchen,  and  two  bed- 
rooms. A  glance  at  these  rooms,  which 
were  plainly  furnished,  and  whose  canvas- 
colored  walls  were  adorned  with  gorgeous 
agricultural  implement  circulars,  patent 
medicine  calendars,  with  polytinted  chromos 
and  cheaply-illuminated  Scriptural  texts, 
showed  her  that  a  certain  neatness  and  or- 
der had  been  preserved  during  her  absence ; 
and,  finding  the  house  empty,  she  crossed 
the  barren  and  blackened  intervening  space 
between  the  back-door  and  her  father's  forge, 


72  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

and  entered  the  open  shed.  The  light  was 
fading  from  the  sky;  but  the  glow  of  the 
forge  lit  up  the  dusty  road  before  it,  and 
accented  the  blackness  of  the  rocky  ledge 
beyond.  A  small  curly-headed  boy,  bearing 
a  singular  likeness  to  a  smudged  and  black- 
ened crayon  drawing  of  Minty,  was  mechan- 
ically blowing  the  bellows  and  obviously  in- 
tent upon  something  else  ;  while  her  father 
—  a  powerfully-built  man,  with  a  quaintly 
dissatisfied  expression  of  countenance  —  was 
with  equal  want  of  interest  mechanically 
hammering  at  a  horse-shoe.  Without  no- 
ticing Minty's  advent,  he  lazily  broke  into 
a  querulous  drawling  chant  of  some  vague 
religious  character :  — 

0  tur-ren,  sinner  ;  tur-ren. 
For  the  Lord  bids  you  turn  —  ah ! 
O  tur-ren,  sinner ;  tur-ren. 
Why  will  you  die  ? 

The  musical  accent  adapted  itself  to  the 
monotonous  fall  of  the  sledge-hammer  ;  and 
at  every  repetition  of  the  word  "  turn  "  he 
suited  the  action  to  the  word  by  turning  the 
horse-shoe  with  the  iron  in  his  left  hand. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  73 

A  slight  grunt  at  the  end  of  every  stroke, 
and  the  simultaneous  repetition  of  "  turn  " 
seemed  to  offer  him  amusement  and  relief. 
Minty,  without  speaking,  crossed  the  shop, 
and  administered  a  sound  box  on  her  broth- 
er's ear.  "  Take  that,  and  let  me  ketch  you 
agen  layin'  low  when  my  back  's  turned,  to 
put  on  your  store  pants." 

"  The  others  had  fetched  away  in  the 
laig,"  said  the  boy,  opposing  a  knee  and 
elbow  at  acute  angle  to  further  attack. 

"  You  jest  get  and  change  'em,"  said 
Minty. 

The  sudden  collapse  of  the  bellows  broke 
in  upon  the  soothing  refrain  of  Mr.  Sharpe, 
and  caused  him  to  turn  also. 

"  It 's  Minty,"  he  said,  replacing  the 
horse-shoe  on  the  coals,  and  setting  his  pow- 
erful arms  and  the  sledge  on  the  anvil  with 
an  exaggerated  expression  of  weariness. 

"  Yes  ;  it 's  me,"  said  Minty,  "  and  Crea- 
tion knows  it 's  time  I  did  come,  to  keep 
that  boy  from  ruin  in'  us  with  his  airs  and 
conceits." 

"Did  ye  bring  over  any  o'  that  fever 
mixter?" 


74  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  No.  Bradley  sez  you  're  loading  yerself 
up  with  so  much  o'  that  bitter  bark  —  kui- 
nine  they  call  it  over  there  —  that  you  '11 
lift  the  ruff  off  your  head  next.  He  allows 
ye  ain't  got  no  ague  ;  it 's  jest  wind  and  dys- 
pepsy.  He  sez  yer  's  strong  ez  a  hoss." 

"Bradley,"  said  Sharpe,  laying  aside  his 
sledge  with  an  aggrieved  manner  which  was, 
however,  as  complacent  as  his  fatigue  and 
discontent,  "  ez  one  of  them  nat'ral  born 
finikin  skunks  ez  I  despise.  I  reckon  he 
began  to  give  p'ints  to  his  parents  when  he 
was  about  knee-high  to  Richelieu  there. 
He  's  on  them  confidential  terms  with  hisself 
and  the  Almighty  that  he  reckons  he  ken 
run  a  saw-mill  and  a  man's  insides  at  the 
same  time  with  one  hand  tied  behind  him. 
And  his  finikin  is  up  to  his  conceit :  he 
wanted  to  tell  me  that  that  yer  handy  brush 
dump  outside  our  shanty  was  unhealthy. 
Give  a  man  with  frills  like  that  his  own  way 
and  he  'd  be  a  sprinkling  odor  cologne  and 
peppermint  all  over  the  country." 

"  He  set  your  shoulder  as  well  as  any 
doctor,"  said  Minty. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  75 

"  That 's  bone-settin',  and  a  nat'ral  gift," 
returned  Sharpe,  as  triumphantly  as  his 
habitual  depression  would  admit ;  "  it  ain't 
conceit  and  finikin  got  out  o'  books !  Well," 
he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  wot 's  happened  ?  " 

Minty's  face  slightly  changed.  "  Nothin' ; 
I  kem  back  to  get  some  things,"  she  said 
shortly,  moving  away. 

"  And  ye  saw  him  ?  " 

"Ye-e-s,"  drawled  Minty,  carelessly,  still 
retreating. 

"  Bixby  was  along  here  about  noon.  He 
says  the  stranger  was  suthin'  high  and 
mighty  in  his  own  country,  and  them  'Frisco 
millionaires  are  quite  sweet  on  him.  Where 
are  ye  goin'  ?  " 

"  In  the  house." 

"  Well,  look  yer,  Minty.  Now  that  you  're 
here,  ye  might  get  up  a  batch  o'  hot  biscuit 
for  supper.  Dinner  was  that  promiscous 
and  experimental  to-day,  along  o'  Richelieu's 
nat'ral  foolin',  that  I  think  I  could  git  out- 
side of  a  little  suthin'  now,  if  only  to  prop 
up  a  kind  of  innard  sinkin'  that  takes  me. 
Ye  ken  tell  me  the  news  at  supper." 


76  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEKRAS. 

Later,  however,  when  Mr.  Sharpe  had 
quitted  his  forge  for  the  night  and,  seated  at 
his  domestic  board,  was,  with  a  dismal  pre- 
sentiment of  future  indigestion,  voraciously 
absorbing  his  favorite  meal  of  hot  saleratus 
biscuits  swimming  in  butter,  he  had  appar- 
ently forgotten  his  curiosity  concerning 
Mainwaring  and  settled  himself  to  a  com- 
plaining chronicle  of  the  day's  mishaps. 
"  Naturally,  havin'  an  extra  lot  o'  work  on 
hand  and  no  time  for  fooliii',  what  does  that 
ornery  Richelieu  get  up  and  do  this  morn- 
in'  ?  Ye  know  them  ridiklus  specimens  that 
he  5s  been  chippin'  outer  that  ledge  that  the 
yearth  slipped  from  down  the  run,  and  lit- 
terin'  up  the  whole  shanty  with  'em.  Well, 
darn  my  skin !  if  he  did  n't  run  a  heap  of 
'em,  mixed  up  with  coal,  unbeknownd  to  me, 
in  the  forge,  to  make  what  he  called  a  c  fire 
essay'  of  'em.  Nat'rally,  I  couldn't  get  a 
blessed  iron  hot,  and  did  n't  know  what  had 
gone  of  the  fire,  or  the  coal  either,  for  two 
hours,  till  I  stopped  work  and  raked  out  the 
coal.  That  comes  from  his  hangin*  round 
that  saw-mill  in  the  woods,  and  listenin'  to 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS.  77 

Bradley's  high-falutin'  talk  about  rocks  and 
strata  and  sich." 

"  But  Bradley  don't  go  a  cent  on  minin', 
Pop,"  said  Minty.  "  He  sez  the  woods  is 
good  enough  for  him ;  and  there  's  millions 
to  be  made  when  the  railroad  comes  along, 
and  timber 's  wanted." 

"  But  until  then  he  's  got  to  keep  hisself , 
to  pay  wages,  and  keep  the  mill  runnin'. 
Onless  it 's,  ez  Bixby  says,  that  he  hopes  to 
get  that  Englishman  to  rope  in  sonie  o'  them 
'Frisco  friends  of  his  to  take  a  hand.  Ye 
didn't  have  any  o'  that  kind  o'  talk,  did 
ye?" 

"  No ;  not  that  kind  o'  talk,"  said  Minty. 

"  Not  that  kind  o'  talk  !  "  repeated  her 
father  with  aggrieved  curiosity.  "  Wot 
kind,  then?" 

"Well,"  said  Minty,  lifting  her  black 
eyes  to  her  father's ;  "  I  ain't  no  account, 
and  you  ain't  no  account  either.  You  ain't 
got  no  college  education,  ain't  got  no  friends 
in  'Frisco,  and  ain't  got  no  high-toned  style  ; 
I  can't  play  the  pianner,  jabber  French,  nor 
get  French  dresses.  We  ain't  got  no  fancy 


78  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

4Shallet,'  as  they  call  it,  with  a  first-class 
view  of  nothing ;  but  only  a  shanty  on  dry 
rock.  But,  afore  /  'd  take  advantage  of  a 
lazy,  gawky  boy-— for  it  ain't  anything  else, 
though  he 's  good  meanin'  enough  —  that 
happened  to  fall  sick  in  my  house,  and  coax 
and  cosset  him,  and  wrap  him  in  white  cot- 
ton, and  mother  him,  and  sister  him,  and 
Aunt  Sukey  him,  and  almost  dry-nuss  him 
gin 'rally,  jist  to  get  him  sweet  on  me  and  on 
mine,  and  take  the  inside  track  of  others  — 
I  'd  be  an  Injin  !  And  if  you  'd  allow  it, 
Pop,  you  'd  be  wuss  nor  a  nigger  !  " 

44  Sho  !  "  said  her  father,  kindling  with 
that  intense  gratification  with  which  the 
male  receives  any  intimation  of  alien  femin- 
ine weakness.  "  It  ain't  that,  Minty,  I  wan- 
ter  know !  " 

44  It 's  jist  that,  Pop  ;  and  I  ez  good  ez  let 
'em  know  I  seed  it.  I  ain't  a  fool,  if  some 
folks  do  drop  their  eyes  and  pertend  to  wipe 
the  laugh  out  of  their  noses  with  a  handker- 
chief when  I  let  out  to  speak.  I  may  n't  be 
good  enough  kempany  "  — 

44  Look  yer,  Minty,"  interrupted  the  black- 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  79 

smith,  sternly,  half  rising  from  his  seat  with 
every  trace  of  his  former  weakness  vanished 
from  his  hardset  face  ;  "do  you  mean  to  say 
that  they  put  on  airs  to  ye  —  to  my  dar- 
ter?" 

"  No,"  said  Minty  quickly ;  "  the  men 
did  n't ;  and  don't  you,  a  man,  mix  yourself 
up  with  women's  meannesses.  I  ken  manage 
'em,  Pop,  with  one  hand." 

Mr.  Sharpe  looked  at  his  daughter's  flash- 
ing black  eyes.  Perhaps  an  uneasy  recollec- 
tion of  the  late  Mrs.  Sharpe's  remarkable 
capacity  in  that  respect  checked  his  further 
rage. 

"  No.  Wot  I  was  sayin',"  resumed  Minty, 
"  ez  that  I  may  n't  be  thought  by  others  good 
enough  to  keep  kempany  with  baronetts  ez  is 
to  be  —  though  baronetts  might  n't  object  — 
but  I  ain't  mean  enough  to  try  to  steal  away 
some  ole  woman's  darling  boy  in  England, 
or  snatch  some  likely  young  English  girl's 
big  brother  outer  the  family  without  sayin' 
by  your  leave.  How  'd  you  like  it  if  Riche- 
lieu was  growed  up,  and  went  to  sea,  —  and 
it  would  be  like  his  peartness,  —  and  he  fell 


80  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

sick  in  some  foreign  land,  and  some  princess 
or  other  skyulged  him  underhand  away  from 
us?" 

Probably  owing  to  the  affair  of  the  speci- 
mens, the  elder  Sharpe  did  not  seem  to  re- 
gard the  possible  mesalliance  of  Richelieu 
with  extraordinary  disfavor.  "  That  boy  is 
conceited  enough  with  hair  ile  and  fine 
clothes  for  anything,"  he  said  plaintively. 
"  But  did  n't  that  Louise  Macy  hev  a  feller 
already  —  that  Captain  Greyson  ?  Wot 's 
gone  o'  him  ?  " 

"  That 's  it,"  said  Minty  :  "  he  kin  go  out 
in  the  woods  and  whistle  now.  But  all 
the  same,  she  could  hitch  him  in  again  at 
any  time  if  the  other  stranger  kicked  over 
the  traces.  That 's  the  style  over  there  at 
The  Lookout.  There  ain't  ez  much  heart  in 
them  two  women  put  together  ez  would  make 
a  green  gal  flush  up  playin'  forfeits.  It 's 
all  in  their  breed,  Pop.  Love  ain't  going  to 
spile  their  appetites  and  complexions,  give 
'em  nose-bleed,  nor  put  a  drop  o'  water  into 
their  eyes  in  all  their  natural  born  days. 
That 's  wot  makes  me  mad.  Ef  I  thought 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  81 

that  Loo  cared  a  bit  for  that  child  I 
would  n't  mind ;  I  'd  just  advise  her  to  make 
him  get  up  and  get  —  pack  his  duds  out  o' 
camp,  and  go  home  and  not  come  back  until 
he  had  a  written  permit  from  his  mother,  or 
the  other  baronet  in  office." 

"  Looks  sorter  ef  some  one  orter  interfere," 
said  the  blacksmith,  reflectively.  "  'T  ain't 
exakly  a  case  for  a  vigilance  committee,  tho' 
it 's  agin  public  morals,  this  sorter  kidnap- 
pin'  o'  strangers.  Looks  ez  if  it  might  bring 
the  country  into  discredit  in  England." 

"  Well,  don't  you  go  and  interfere  and 
havin'  folks  say  ez  my  nose  was  put  out 
o'  jint  over  there,"  said  Minty,  curtly. 
"  There  's  another  Englishman  comin'  up 
from  'Frisco  to  see  him  to-morrow.  Ef  he 
ain't  scooped  up  by  Jenny  Bradley  he  '11 
guess  there  's  a  nigger  in  the  fence  some- 
where. But  there,  Pop,  let  it  drop.  It 's  a 
bad  aig,  anyway,"  she  concluded,  rising  from 
the  table,  and  passing  her  hands  down  her 
frock  and  her  shapely  hips,  as  if  to  wipe 
off  further  contamination  of  the  subject. 
"  Where  's  Richelieu  agin  ?  " 


82  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  Said  he  did  n't  want  supper,  and  like  ez 
not  he  's  gone  over  to  see  that  fammerly  at 
the  Summit.  There  's  a  little  girl  thar  he  's 
sparkin',  about  his  own  age." 

"  His  own  age !  "  said  Minty,  indignantly. 
"  Why,  she  's  double  that,  if  she 's  a  day. 
Well  —  if  he  ain't  the  triflinest,  conceited- 
nest  little  limb  that  ever  grew !  I  'd  like 
to  know  where  he  got  it  from  —  it  was  n't 
mar's  style." 

Mr.  Sharpe  smiled  darkly.  Richelieu's 
precocious  gallantry  evidently  was  not  con- 
sidered as  gratuitous  as  his  experimental 
metallurgy.  But  as  his  eyes  followed  his 
daughter's  wholesome,  Phyllis-like  figure,  a 
new  idea  took  possession  of  him :  needless 
to  say,  however,  it  was  in  the  line  of  another 
personal  aggrievement,  albeit  it  took  the 
form  of  religious  reflection. 

"  It 's  curous,  Minty,  wot 's  fore-ordained, 
and  wot  ain't.  Now,  yer  's  one  of  them  high 
and  mighty  fellows,  after  the  Lord,  ez  comes 
meanderin'  around  here,  and  drops  off  —  ez 
fur  ez  I  kin  hear  —  in  a  kind  o'  faint  at  the 
first  house  he  kerns  to,  and  is  taken  in  and 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  83 

lodged  and  sumptuously  fed  ;  and,  nat'rally, 
they  gets  their  reward  for  it.  Now  wot 's 
to  hev  kept  that  young  feller  from  coming 
here  and  droppin'  down  in  my  forge,  or  in 
this  very  room,  and  you  a  tendin'  him,  and 
jist  layin'  over  them  folks  at  The  Look- 
out?" 

"  Wot 's  got  hold  o'  ye,  Pop  ?  Don't  I  teU 
ye  he  had  a  letter  to  Jim  Bradley  ?  "  said 
Minty,  quickly,  with  an  angry  flash  of  color 
in  her  cheek. 

"  That  ain't  it,"  said  Sharpe  confidently ; 
"  it 's  cos  he  walked.  Nat'rally,  you  'd  think 
he  'd  ride,  being  high  and  mighty,  and 
that 's  where,  ez  the  parson  will  tell  ye, 
wot 's  merely  fi-nite  and  human  wisdom  errs ! 
Ef  that  feller  had  ridden,  he  'd  have  had  to 
come  by  this  yer  road,  and  by  this  yer  forge, 
and  stop  a  spell  like  any  other.  But  it  was 
fore-ordained  that  he  should  walk,  jest  cos 
it  was  n't  generally  kalkilated  and  reckoned 
on.  So,  you  had  no  show." 

For  a  moment,  Minty  seemed  struck  with 
her  father's  original  theory.  But  with  a 
vigorous  shake  of  her  shoulders  she  threw 
it  off.  Her  eyes  darkened. 


84  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  I  reckon  you  ain't  thinking,  Pop "  — 
she  began. 

"  I  was  only  say  in'  it  was  curous,"  he  re- 
joined quietly.  Nevertheless,  after  a  pause, 
he  rose,  coughed,  and  going  up  to  the  young 
girl,  as  she  leaned  over  the  dresser,  bent  his 
powerful  arm  around  her,  and,  drawing  her 
and  the  plate  she  was  holding  against  his 
breast,  laid  his  bearded  cheek  for  an  instant 
softly  upon  her  rebellious  head.  "  It 's  all 
right,  Minty,"  he  said ;  "  ain't  it,  pet  ? " 
Minty's  eyelids  closed  gently  under  the  fa- 
miliar pressure.  "  Wot 's  that  in  your  hair, 
Minty  ?  "  he  said  tactfully,  breaking  an  em- 
barrassing pause. 

"  Bar's  grease,  father,"  murmured  Minty, 
in  a  child's  voice  —  the  grown-up  woman, 
under  that  magic  touch,  having  lapsed  again 
into  her  father's  motherless  charge  of  ten 
years  before. 

"  It 's  pow'ful  soothin',  and  pretty,"  said 
her  father. 

"  I  made  it  myself  —  do  you  want  some  ?  " 
asked  Minty. 

"  Not  now,  girl !  "     For  a  moment  they 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  85 

slightly  rocked  each  other  in  that  attitude  — 
the  man  dextrously,  the  woman  with  infinite 
tenderness  —  and  then  they  separated. 

Late  that  night,  after  Richelieu  had  re- 
turned, and  her  father  wrestled  in  his  fitful 
sleep  with  the  remorse  of  his  guilty  indul- 
gence at  supper,  Minty  remained  alone  in 
her  room,  hard  at  work,  surrounded  by  the 
contents  of  one  of  her  mother's  trunks  and 
the  fragments  of  certain  ripped-up  and 
newly-turned  dresses.  For  Minty  had  con- 
ceived the  bold  idea  of  altering  one  of  her 
mother's  gowns  to  the  fashion  of  a  certain 
fascinating  frock  worn  by  Louise  Macy.  It 
was  late  when  her  self-imposed  task  was 
completed.  With  a  nervous  trepidation 
that  was  novel  to  her,  Minty  began  to  dis- 
robe herself  preparatory  to  trying  on  her 
new  creation.  The  light  of  a  tallow  candle 
and  a  large  swinging  lantern,  borrowed  from 
her  father's  forge,  fell  shyly  on  her  milky 
neck  and  shoulders,  and  shone  in  her  spar- 
kling eyes,  as  she  stood  before  her  largest 
mirror  —  the  long  glazed  door  of  a  kitchen 
clock  which  she  had  placed  upon  her  chest 


86  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

of  drawers.  Had  poor  Minty  been  content 
with  the  full,  free,  and  goddess-like  outlines 
that  it  reflected,  she  would  have  been  spared 
her  impending  disappointment.  For,  alas  ! 
the  dress  of  her  model  had  been  framed 
upon  a  symmetrically  attenuated  French 
corset,  and  the  unfortunate  Minty 's  fuller 
and  ampler  curves  had  under  her  simple 
country  stays  known  no  more  restraining 
cincture  than  knew  the  Venus  of  Milo. 
The  alteration  was  a  hideous  failure,  it  was 
neither  Minty 's  statuesque  outline  nor  Lou- 
ise Macy's  graceful  contour.  Minty  was 
no  fool,  and  the  revelation  of  this  slow  edu- 
cation of  the  figure  and  training  of  outline  — 
whether  fair  or  false  in  art  —  struck  her 
quick  intelligence  with  all  its  full  and  hope- 
less significance.  A  bitter  light  sprang  to 
her  eyes  ;  she  tore  the  wretched  sham  from 
her  shoulders,  and  then  wrapping  a  shawl 
around  her,  threw  herself  heavily  and  sul- 
lenly on  the  bed.  But  inaction  was  not  a 
characteristic  of  Minty 's  emotion ;  she  pres- 
ently rose  again,  and,  taking  an  old  work- 
box  from  her  trunk,  began  to  rummage  in 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERKAS.  87 

its  recesses.  It  was  an  old  shell-incrusted 
affair,  and  the  apparent  receptacle  of  such 
cheap  odds  and  ends  of  jewelry  as  she  pos- 
sessed ;  a  hideous  cameo  ring,  the  property 
of  the  late  Mrs.  Sharpe,  was  missing.  She 
again  rapidly  explored  the  contents  of  the 
box,  and  then  an  inspiration  seized  her,  and 
she  darted  into  her  brother's  bedroom. 

That  precocious  and  gallant  Lovelace  of 
ten,  despite  all  sentiment,  had  basely  suc- 
cumbed to  the  gross  materialism  of  youthful 
slumber.  On  a  cot  in  the  corner,  half  hidden 
under  the  wreck  of  his  own  careless  and 
hurried  disrobing,  with  one  arm  hanging  out 
of  the  coverlid,  Richelieu  lay  supremely  un- 
conscious. On  the  forefinger  of  his  small 
but  dirty  hand  the  missing  cameo  was  still 
glittering  guiltily.  With  a  swift  movement 
of  indignation  Minty  rushed  with  uplifted 
palm  towards  the  tempting  expanse  of  youth- 
ful cheek  that  lay  invitingly  exposed  upon 
the  pillow.  Then  she  stopped  suddenly. 

She  had  seen  him  lying  thus  a  hundred 
times  before.  On  the  pillow  near  him  an 
indistinguishable  mass  of  golden  fur  —  the 


88  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

helpless  bulk  of  a  squirrel  chained  to  the  leg 
of  his  cot ;  at  his  feet  a  wall-eyed  cat,  who 
had  followed  his  tyrannous  caprices  with  the 
long-suffering  devotion  of  her  sex ;  on  the 
shelf  above  him  a  loathsome  collection  of 
flies  and  tarantulas  in  dull  green  bottles :  a 
slab  of  ginger-bread  for  light  nocturnal  re- 
fection, and  her  own  pot  of  bear's  grease. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  piteous  defencelessness 
of  youthful  sleep,  perhaps  it  was  some  linger- 
ing memory  of  her  father's  caress;  but  as 
she  gazed  at  him  with  troubled  eyes,  the  ju- 
venile reprobate  slipped  back  into  the  baby- 
boy  that  she  had  carried  in  her  own  childish 
arms  such  a  short  time  ago,  when  the  ma- 
ternal responsibility  had  descended  with  the 
dead  mother's  ill-fitting  dresses  upon  her 
lank  girlish  figure  and  scant  virgin  breast  — 
and  her  hand  fell  listlessly  at  her  side. 

The  sleeper  stirred  slightly  and  awoke. 
At  the  same  moment,  by  some  mysterious 
sympathy,  a  pair  of  beady  bright  eyes  ap- 
peared in  the  bulk  of  fur  near  his  curls,  the 
cat  stretched  herself,  and  even  a  vague  agi- 
tation was  heard  in  the  bottles  on  the  shelf. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  89 

Richelieu's  blinking  eyes  wandered  from  the 
candle  to  his  sister,  and  then  the  guilty  hand 
was  suddenly  withdrawn  under  the  bed- 
clothes. 

"  No  matter,  dear,"  said  Minty  ;  "  it 's 
mar's,  and  you  kin  wear  it  when  you  like,  if 
you  '11  only  ask  for  it." 

Richelieu  wondered  if  he  was  dreaming ! 
This  unexpected  mildness  —  this  inexpli- 
cable tremor  in  his  sister's  voice :  it  must 
be  some  occult  influence  of  the  night  season 
on  the  sisterly  mind,  possible  akin  to  a  fear 
of  ghosts  !  He  made  a  mental  note  of  it  in 
view  of  future  favors,  yet  for  the  moment 
he  felt  embarrassedly  gratified.  "  Ye  ain't 
wan  tin'  anything,  Minty,"  he  said  affection- 
ately ;  "a  pail  o'  cold  water  from  the  far 
spring  —  no  nothin'?"  He  made  an  os- 
tentatious movement  as  if  to  rise,  yet  suffi- 
ciently protracted  to  prevent  any  hasty  ac- 
ceptance of  his  prodigal  offer. 

"No, dear,"  she  said,  still  gazing  at  him 
with  an  absorbed  look  in  her  dark  eyes. 

Richelieu  felt  a  slight  creepy  sensation 
under  that  lonely  far-off  gaze.  "  Your  eyes 


90  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

look  awful  big  at  night,  Minty,"  he  said. 
He  would  have  added  "  and  pretty,"  but  she 
was  his  sister,  and  he  had  the  lofty  fraternal 
conviction  of  his  duty  in  repressing  the  in- 
ordinate vanity  of  the  sex.  "  Ye  're  sure  ye 
ain't  wantin'  nothin'  ?  " 

"Not  now,  dear."  She  paused  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said  deliberately :  "  But  you 
would  n't  mind  turnin'  out  after  sun-up  and 
runnin'  an  errand  for  me  over  to  The 
Lookout  ?  " 

Richelieu's  eyes  sparkled  so  suddenly  that 
even  in  her  absorption  Minty  noticed  the 
change.  "  But  ye  're  not  goin'  to  tarry  over 
there,  ner  gossip  —  you  hear  ?  Yer  to  take 
this  yer  message.  Yer  to  say  '  that  it  will 
be  onpossible  for  me  to  come  back  there,  on 
account  —  on  account  of ?  "  — 

"Important  business,"  suggested  Riche- 
lieu ;  "  that 's  the  perlite  style." 

"  Ef  you  like."  She  leaned  over  the  bed 
and  put  her  lips  to  his  forehead,  still  damp 
with  the  dews  of  sleep,  and  then  to  his  long- 
lashed  lids.  "  Mind  Nip !  "  —  the  squirrel 
—  he  practically  suggested.  For  an  instant 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.  91 

their  blonde  curls   mingled  on  the  pillow. 
"  Now  go  to  sleep,"  she  said  curtly. 

But  Richelieu  had  taken  her  white  neck 
in  the  short  strangulatory  hug  of  the  small 
boy,  and  held  her  fast.  "  Ye  11  let  me  put 
on  my  best  pants  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  wear  that  ring?  " 

"  Yes  "  —  a  little  sadly. 

"  Then  yer  kin  count  me  in,  Minty ;  and 
see  here  "  —  his  voice  sank  to  a  confidential 
whisper  —  "  mebbee  some  day  ye  11  be  be- 
holden to  me  for  a  lot  o'  real  jewelry." 

She  returned  slowly  to  her  room,  and,  open- 
ing the  window,  looked  out  upon  the  night. 
The  same  moon  that  had  lent  such  superer- 
ogatory grace  to  the  natural  beauty  of  The 
Lookout,  here  seemed  to  have  failed,  as 
Minty  had,  in  disguising  the  relentless  limi- 
tations of  Nature  or  the  cruel  bonds  of  cus- 
tom. The  black  plain  of  granite,  under  its 
rays,  appeared  only  to  extend  its  poverty  to 
some  remoter  barrier  ;  the  blackened  stumps 
of  the  burnt  forest  stood  bleaker  against  the 
sky,  like  broken  and  twisted  pillars  of  iron. 


92  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

The  cavity  of  the  broken  ledge  where  Rich- 
elieu had  prospected  was  a  hideous  chasm  of 
bluish  blackness,  over  which  a  purple  vapor 
seemed  to  hover  ;  the  "  brush  dump  "  beside 
the  house  showed  a  cavern  of  writhing  and 
distorted  objects  stiffened  into  dark  rigidity. 
She  had  often  looked  upon  the  prospect :  it 
had  never  seemed  so  hard  and  changeless ; 
yet  she  accepted  it,  as  she  had  accepted  it 
before. 

She  turned  away,  undressed  herself  me- 
chanically, and  went  to  bed.  She  had  an 
idea  that  she  had  been  very  foolish ;  that 
her  escape  from  being  still  more  foolish  was 
something  miraculous,  and  in  some  measure 
connected  with  Providence,  her  father,  her 
little  brother,  and  her  dead  mother,  whose 
dress  she  had  recklessly  spoiled.  But  that 
she  had  even  so  slightly  touched  the  bitter- 
ness and  glory  of  renunciation  —  as  written 
of  heroines  and  fine  ladies  by  novelists  and 
poets  —  never  entered  the  foolish  head  of 
Minty  Sharpe,  the  blacksmith's  daughter. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IT  was  a  little  after  daybreak  next  morn- 
ing that  Main  waring  awoke  from  the  first  un- 
ref  reshing  night  he  had  passed  at  The  Look- 
out. He  was  so  feverish  and  restless  that 
he  dressed  himself  at  sunrise,  and  cautiously 
stepped  out  upon  the  still  silent  veranda. 
The  chairs  which  he  and  Louise  Macy  had 
occupied  were  still,  it  seemed  to  him,  con- 
spicuously confidential  with  each  other,  and 
he  separated  them,  but  as  he  looked  down 
into  the  Great  Canyon  at  his  feet  he  was 
conscious  of  some  undefinable  change  in  the 
prospect.  A  slight  mist  was  rising  from  the 
valley,  as  if  it  were  the  last  of  last  night's 
illusions ;  the  first  level  sunbeams  were 
obtrusively  searching,  and  the  keen  morn- 
ing air  had  a  dryly  practical  insistence  which 
irritated  him,  until  a  light  footstep  on  the 
farther  end  of  the  veranda  caused  him  to 
turn  sharply. 


94  A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

It  was  the  singular  apparition  of  a  small 
boy,  bearing  a  surprising  resemblance  to 
Minty  Sharpe,  and  dressed  in  an  unique 
fashion.  On  a  tumbled  sea  of  blonde  curls 
a  "  chip  "  sailor  hat,  with  a  broad  red  rib- 
bon, rode  jauntily.  But  here  the  nautical 
suggestion  changed,  as  had  the  desire  of 
becoming  a  pirate  which  induced  it.  A  red 
shirt,  with  a  white  collar,  and  a  yellow  plaid 
ribbon  tie,  that  also  recalled  Minty  Sharpe, 
lightly  turned  the  suggestion  of  his  costume 
to  mining.  Short  black  velvet  trousers, 
coming  to  his  knee,  and  ostentatiously  new 
short-legged  boots,  with  visible  straps  like 
curling  ears,  completed  the  entirely  original 
character  of  his  lower  limbs. 

Mainwaring,  always  easily  gentle  and 
familiar  with  children  and  his  inferiors, 
looked  at  him  with  an  encouraging  smile. 
Richelieu  —  for  it  was  he  —  advanced 
gravely  and  held  out  his  hand,  with  the 
cameo  ring  apparent.  Mainwaring,  with 
equal  gravity,  shook  it  warmly,  and  removed 
his  hat.  Kichelieu,  keenly  observant,  did 
the  same. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  95 

"  Is  Jim  Bradley  out  yet  ?  "  asked  Riche- 
lieu, carelessly. 

"  No ;  I  think  not.  But  I  'in  Frank 
Main  waring.  Will  I  do  ?  " 

Richelieu  smiled.  The  dimples,  the  white 
teeth,  the  dark,  laughing  eyes,  were  surely 
Minty's? 

"  I  'm  Richelieu,"  he  rejoined  with  equal 
candor. 

"Richelieu?" 

"  Yes.  That  Frenchman  —  the  Lord 
Cardinal  —  you  know.  Mar  saw  Forrest  do 
him  out  in  St.  Louis." 

"Do  him?" 

"  Yes,  in  the  theayter." 

With  a  confused  misconception  of  his 
meaning,  Mainwaring  tried  to  recall  the  his- 
torical dress  of  the  great  Cardinal  and  fit 
it  to  the  masquerader  —  if  such  he  were  — 
before  him.  But  Richelieu  relieved  him  by 
adding,  — 

"  Richelieu  Sharpe." 

"  Oh,  that 's  your  name!"  said  Mainwar- 
ing, cheerfully.  "  Then  you  're  Miss  Minty's 
brother.  I  know  her.  How  jolly  lucky  !  " 


96  A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

They  both  shook  hands  again.  Richelieu, 
eager  to  get  rid  of  the  burden  of  his  sister's 
message,  which  he  felt  was  in  the  way  of 
free-and-easy  intercourse  with  this  charming 
stranger,  looked  uneasily  towards  the  house. 

"  I  say,"  said  Main  waring,  "  if  you  're  in 
a  hurry,  you  'd  better  go  in  there  and  knock. 
I  hear  some  one  stirring  in  the  kitchen." 

Richelieu  nodded,  but  first  went  back  to 
the  steps  of  the  veranda,  picked  up  a  small 
blue  knotted  handkerchief,  apparently  con- 
taining some  heavy  objects,  and  repassed 
Mainwaring. 

"  What !  have  you  cut  it,  Richelieu,  with 
your  valuables?  What  have  you  got 
there?" 

"Specimins,"  said  Richelieu,  shortly,  and 
vanished. 

He  returned  presently.  "  Well,  Cardi- 
nal, did  you  see  anybody?"  asked  Main- 
waring. 

"  Mrs.  Bradley ;  but  Jim 's  over  to  the 
mill.  I  'm  goin'  there." 

"  Did  you  see  Miss  Macy  ?  "  continued 
Mainwaring,  carelessly. 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  97 

"Loo?" 

"  Loo  !  —  well ;  yes." 

"  No.  She  's  philanderin'  with  Captain 
Grey  son." 

"  Philandering  with  Grey  son  ?  "  echoed 
Mainwaring,  in  wonder. 

"  Yes  ;  on  horseback  on  the  ridge." 

"  You  mean  she  's  riding  out  with  Mr.  — 
with  Captain  Grey  son  ?  " 

"Yes;  ridin'  and  philanderin',"  persisted 
Richelieu. 

"  And  what  do  you  call  philandering  ?  " 

"  Well ;  I  reckon  you  and  she  oughter 
know,"  returned  Richelieu,  with  a  preco- 
cious air. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mainwaring,  with  a 
faint  smile.  Richelieu  really  was  like 
Minty. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  This  young 
Englishman  was  becoming  exceedingly  un- 
interesting. Richelieu  felt  that  he  was 
gaining  neither  profit  nor  amusement,  and 
losing  time.  "  I  'm  going,"  he  said. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Mainwaring,  with- 
out looking  up. 


98  A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

Kichelieu  picked  up  his  specimens,  thor- 
oughly convinced  of  the  stranger's  glittering 
deceitfulness,  and  vanished. 

It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock  when  Mrs. 
Bradley  came  from  the  house.  She  apolo- 
gized, with  a  slightly  distrait  smile,  for  the 
tardiness  of  the  household.  "  Mr.  Bradley 
stayed  at  the  mill  all  night,  and  will  not  be 
here  until  breakfast,  when  he  brings  your 
friend  Mr.  Richardson  with  him  "  —  Main- 
waring  scarcely  repressed  a  movement  of  im- 
patience —  "  who  arrives  early.  It 's  unfor- 
tunate that  Miss  Sharpe  can't  come  to-day." 

In  his  abstraction  Mainwaring  did  not 
notice  that  Mrs.  Bradley  slightly  accented 
Minty's  formal  appellation,  and  said  care- 
lessly, — 

"  Oh,  that 's  why  her  brother  came  over 
here  so  early  !  " 

"  Did  you  see  him?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bradley, 
almost  abruptly. 

"  Yes.  He  is  an  amusing  little  beggar ; 
but  I  think  he  shares  his  sister's  preference 
for  Mr.  Bradley.  He  deserted  me  here  in 
the  veranda  for  him  at  the  mill." 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.  99 

"  Louise  will  keep  you  company  as  soon 
as  she  has  changed  her  dress,"  continued 
Mrs.  Bradley.  "  She  was  out  riding  early 
this  morning  with  a  friend.  She  's  very 
fond  of  early  morning  rides." 

"  And  philandering,"  repeated  Mainwar- 
ing  to  himself.  It  was  quite  natural  for 
Miss  Macy  to  ride  out  in  the  morning,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  country,  with  an  escort ; 
but  why  had  the  cub  insisted  on  the  "  phi- 
landering"? He  had  said,  "  and  philander- 
ing," distinctly.  It  was  a  nasty  thing  for 
him  to  say.  Any  other  fellow  but  he,  Main- 
waring,  might  misunderstand  the  whole 
thing.  Perhaps  he  ought  to  warn  her  —  bufc 
no !  he  could  not  repeat  the  gossip  of  a 
child,  and  that  child  the  brother  of  one  of 
her  inferiors.  But  was  Minty  an  inferior  ? 
Did  she  and  Minty  talk  together  about  this 
fellow  Greyson?  At  all  events,  it  would 
only  revive  the  awkwardness  of  the  preced- 
ing day,  and  he  resolved  to  say  nothing. 

He  was  rewarded  by  a  half -inquiring,  half- 
confiding  look  in  Louise's  bright  eyes,  when 
she  presently  greeted  him  on  the  veranda. 


100         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  She  had  quite  forgotten,"  she  said,  "  to  tell 
him  last  night  of  her  morning's  engagement ; 
indeed,  she  had  half  forgotten  it.  It  used 
to  be  a  favorite  practice  of  hers,  with  Cap- 
tain Greyson ;  but  she  had  lately  given  it 
up.  She  believed  she  had  not  ridden  since 
—  since  "  — 

"  Since  when?"  asked  Main  waring. 

"  Well,  since  you  were  ill,"  she  said 
frankly.  • 

A  quick  pleasure  shone  in  Main  waring' s 
cheek  and  eye  ;  but  Louise's  pretty  lids  did 
not  drop,  nor  her  faint,  quiet  bloom  deepen. 
Breakfast  was  already  waiting  when  Mr. 
Richardson  arrived  alone.  He  explained 
that  Mr.  Bradley  had  some  important  and 
unexpected  business  which  had  delayed  him, 
but  which,  he  added,  "  Mr.  Bradley  says  may 
prove  interesting  enough  to  you  to  excuse 
his  absence  this  morning."  Main  war  ing 
was  not  displeased  that  his  critical  and  ob- 
servant host  was  not  present  at  their  meet- 
ing. Louise  Macy  was,  however,  as  de- 
murely conscious  of  the  different  bearing  of 
the  two  compatriots.  Eichardson's  somewhat 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.         101 

self-important  patronage  of  the  two  ladies, 
and  that  Californian  familiarity  he  had  ac- 
quired, changed  to  a  certain  uneasy  defer- 
ence towards  Mainwaring;  while  the  younger 
Englishman's  slightly  stiff  and  deliberate 
cordiality  was,  nevertheless,  mingled  with  a 
mysterious  understanding  that  appeared 
innate  and  unconscious.  Louise  was  quick 
to  see  that  these  two  men,  more  widely  di- 
vergent in  quality  than  any  two  of  her  own 
countrymen,  were  yet  more  subtly  connected 
by  some  unknown  sympathy  than  the  most 
equal  of  Americans.  Minty's  prophetic  be- 
lief of  the  effect  of  the  two  women  upon 
Richardson  was  certainly  true  as  regarded 
Mrs.  Bradley.  The  banker  —  a  large  mate- 
rial nature  —  was  quickly  fascinated  by  the 
demure,  puritanic  graces  of  that  lady,  and 
was  inclined  to  exhibit  a  somewhat  broad 
and  ostentatious  gallantry  that  annoyed 
Mainwaring.  When  they  were  seated  alone 
on  the  veranda,  which  the  ladies  had  dis- 
creetly left  to  them,  Richardson  said,  — 

"  Odd  I  did  n't  hear  of  Bradley's  wife  be- 
fore.   She  seems  a  spicy,  pretty,  comfortable 


102         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

creature.  Regularly  thrown  away  with  him 
up  here." 

Mainwaring  replied  coldly  that  she  was 
"  an  admirable  helpmeet  of  a  very  admirable 
man,"  not,  however,  without  an  uneasy  rec- 
ollection of  her  previous  confidences  respect- 
ing her  husband.  "They  have  been  most 
thoroughly  good  and  kind  to  me  ;  my  own 
brother  and  sister  could  not  have  done  more. 
And  certainly  not  with  better  taste  or  deli- 
cacy/' he  added,  markedly. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Richardson, 
hurriedly.  "I  wrote  to  Lady  Mainwaring 
that  you  were  taken  capital  care  of  by  some 
very  honest  people ;  and  that  "  — 

"Lady  Mainwaring  already  knows  what 
I  think  of  them,  and  what  she  owes  to  their 
kindness,"  said  Mainwaring,  dryly. 

"  True,  true,"  said  Richardson,  apologet- 
ically. "  Of  course  you  must  have  seen  a 
good  deal  of  them.  I  only  know  Bradley 
in  a  business  way.  He  's  been  trying  to  get 
the  Bank  to  help  him  to  put  up  some  new 
mills  here  ;  but  we  did  n't  see  it.  I  dare  say 
he  is  good  company  —  rather  amusing,  eh?" 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS.         103 

Mainwaring  had  the  gift  of  his  class  of 
snubbing  by  the  polite  and  forgiving  obliv- 
ion of  silence.  Eichardson  shifted  uneasily 
in  his  chair,  but  continued  with  assumed 
carelessness :  — 

"  No ;  I  only  knew  of  this  cousin,  Miss 
Macy.  I  heard  of  her  when  she  was  visit- 
ing some  friends  in  Menlo  Park  last  year. 
Kather  an  attractive  girl.  They  say  Colonel 
Johnson,  of  Sacramento,  took  quite  a  fancy 
to  her  —  it  would  have  been  a  good  match, 
I  dare  say,  for  he  is  very  rich — but  the  thing 
fell  through  in  some  way.  Then,  they  say, 
she  wanted  to  marry  that  Spaniard,  young 
Pico,  of  the  Amador  Ranche  ;  but  his  family 
would  n't  hear  of  it.  Somehow,  she 's  deuced 
unlucky.  I  suppose  she  '11  make  a  mess  of 
it  with  that  Captain  Greyson  she  was  out 
riding  with  this  morning." 

"  Did  n't  the  Bank  think  Bradley's  mills 
a  good  investment  ? "  asked  Mainwaring 
quietly,  when  Richardson  paused. 

"  Not  with  him  in  it ;  he  is  not  a  business 
man,  you  know." 

"  I  thought  he  was.     He  seems  to  me  an 


104         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

energetic  man,  who  knows  his  work,  and  is 
not  afraid  to  look  after  it  himself." 

"  That 's  just  it.  He  has  got  absurd  ideas 
of  cooperating  with  his  workmen,  you  know, 
and  doing  everything  slowly  and  on  a  limited 
scale.  The  only  thing  to  be  done  is  to  buy 
up  all  the  land  on  this  ridge,  run  off  the  set- 
tlers, freeze  out  all  the  other  mills,  and  put 
it  into  a  big  San  Francisco  company  on 
shares.  That 's  the  only  way  we  would  look 
at  it." 

"But  you  don't  consider  the  investment 
bad,  even  from  his  point  of  view  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not." 

"  And  you  only  decline  it  because  it  is  n't 
big  enough  for  the  Bank? " 

"  Exactly." 

"  Kichardson,"  said  Mainwaring,  slowly 
rising,  putting  his  hands  in  his  trouser 
pockets,  and  suddenly  looking  down  upon 
the  banker  from  the  easy  level  of  habitual 
superiority,  "  I  wish  you  'd  attend  to  this 
thing  for  me.  I  desire  to  make  some  return 
to  Mr.  Bradley  for  his  kindness.  I  wish  to 
give  him  what  help  he  wants  —  in  his  own 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEKRAS.          105 

way —  you  understand.  I  wish  it,  and  I  be- 
lieve my  father  wishes  it,  too.  If  you  'd  like 
him  to  write  to  you  to  that  effect "  — 

"  By  no  means,  it 's  not  at  all  necessary," 
said  Richardson,  dropping  with  equal  sud- 
denness into  his  old-world  obsequiousness. 
"  I  shall  certainly  do  as  you  wish.  It  is  not 
a  bad  investment,  Mr.  Mainwaring,  and  as 
you  suggest,  a  very  proper  return  for  their 
kindness.  And,  being  here,  it  will  come 
quite  naturally  for  me  to  take  up  the  affair 
again." 

"  And  —  I  say,  Richardson." 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"  As  these  ladies  are  rather  short-handed 
in  their  domestic  service,  you  know,  perhaps 
you  'd  better  not  stay  to  luncheon  or  dinner, 
but  go  on  to  the  Summit  House  —  it 's  only 
a  mile  or  two  farther  —  and  come  back  here 
this  evening.  I  shan't  want  you  until  then." 

"  Certainly  !  "  stammered  Richardson. 
"  I  '11  just  take  leave  of  the  ladies !  " 

"  It 's  not  at  all  necessary,"  said  Main- 
waring,  quietly ;  "  you  would  only  disturb 
them  in  their  household  duties.  I  '11  tell 


106         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

them  what  I  've  done  with  you,  if  they  ask. 
You  '11  find  your  stick  and  hat  in  the  pas- 
sage, and  you  can  leave  the  veranda  by  these 
steps.  By  the  way,  you  had  better  manage 
at  the  Summit  to  get  some  one  to  bring  my 
traps  from  here  to  be  forwarded  to  Sacra- 
mento to-morrow.  I  '11  want  a  conveyance, 
or  a  horse  of  some  kind,  myself,  for  I  've 
given  up  walking  for  a  while ;  but  we  can 
settle  about  that  to-night.  Come  early. 
Good  morning ! " 

He  accompanied  his  thoroughly  subjugated 
countryman  —  who,  however,  far  from  at- 
tempting to  reassert  himself,  actually  seemed 
easier  and  more  cheerful  in  his  submission 
—  to  the  end  of  the  veranda,  and  watched 
him  depart.  As  he  turned  back,  he  saw  the 
pretty  figure  of  Louise  Macy  leaning  against 
the  doorway.  How  graceful  and  refined 
she  looked  in  that  simple  morning  dress ! 
What  wonder  that  she  was  admired  by  Grey- 
son,  by  Johnson,"  and  by  that  Spaniard !  — 
no,  by  Jove,  it  was  she  that  wanted  to  marry 
him ! 

"  What  have  you  sent  away  Mr.  Richard- 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.          107 

son  for  ?  "  asked  the  young  girl,  with  a  half- 
reproachful,  half-mischievous  look  in  her 
bright  eyes. 

"  I  packed  him  off  because  I  thought  it 
was  a  little  too  hard  on  you  and  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley to  entertain  him  without  help." 

"  But  as  he  was  our  guest,  you  might 
have  left  that  to  us,"  said  Miss  Macy. 

44  By  Jove  !  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said 
Mainwaring,  coloring  in  consternation. 
"  Pray  forgive  me,  Miss  Macy  —  but  you 
see  I  knew  the  man,  and  could  say  it,  and 
you  could  n't." 

"  Well,  I  forgive  you,  for  you  look  really 
so  cut  up,"  said  Louise,  laughing.  "  But  I 
don't  know  what  Jenny  will  say  of  your  dis- 
posing of  her  conquest  so  summarily."  She 
stopped  and  regarded  him  more  attentively. 
44  Has  he  brought  you  any  bad  news  ?  if  so, 
it 's  a  pity  you  did  n't  send  him  away  before. 
He  's  quite  spoiling  our  cure." 

Mainwaring  thought  bitterly  that  he  had. 
44  But  it 's  a  cure  for  all  that,  Miss  Macy," 
he  said,  with  an  attempt  at  cheerfulness, 
44  and  being  a  cure,  you  see,  there 's  no 


108          A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

longer  an  excuse  for  my  staying  here.  I 
have  been  making  arrangements  for  leaving 
here  to-morrow." 

"So  soon?" 

"  Do  you  think  it  soon,  Miss  Macy  ? " 
asked  Mainwaring,  turning  pale  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"  I  quite  forgot  —  that  you  were  here  as 
an  invalid  only,  and  that  we  owe  our  pleas- 
ure to  the  accident  of  your  pain." 

She  spoke  a  little  artificially,  he  thought, 
yet  her  cheeks  had  not  lost  their  pink  bloom, 
nor  her  eyes  their  tranquillity.  Had  he 
heard  Minty's  criticism  he  might  have  be- 
lieved that  the  organic  omission  noticed  by 
her  was  a  fact. 

"  And  now  that  your  good  work  as  Sister 
of  Charity  is  completed,  you  '11  be  able  to 
enter  the  world  of  gayety  again  with  a  clear 
conscience,"  said  Mainwaring,  with  a  smile 
that  he  inwardly  felt  was  a  miserable  failure. 
"You'll  be  able  to  resume  your  morning 
rides,  you  know,  which  the  wretched  invalid 
interrupted." 

Louise  raised  her  clear  eyes  to  his,  without 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          109 

reproach,  indignation,  or  even  wonder.  He 
felt  as  if  he  had  attempted  an  insult  and 
failed. 

"  Does  my  cousin  know  you  are  going  so 
soon?"  she  asked  finally. 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  myself  until  to-day. 
You  see,"  he  added  hastily,  while  his  honest 
blood  blazoned  the  lie  in  his  cheek.  "  I  've 
heard  of  some  miserable  business  affairs  that 
will  bring  me  back  to  England  sooner  than 
I  expected." 

"  I  think  you  should  consider  your  health 
more  important  than  any  mere  business," 
said  Louise.  "  I  don't  mean  that  you 
should  remain  here,"  she  added  with  a  hasty 
laugh,  "  but  it  would  be  a  pity,  now  that  you 
have  reaped  the  benefit  of  rest  and  taking 
care  of  yourself,  that  you  should  not  make 
it  your  only  business  to  seek  it  elsewhere." 

Mainwaring  longed  to  say  that  within  the 
last  half  hour,  living  or  dying  had  become 
of  little  moment  to  him  ;  but  he  doubted 
the  truth  or  efficacy  of  this  time-worn  heroic 
of  passion.  He  felt,  too,  that  anything  he 
said  was  a  mere  subterfuge  *for  the  real  rea- 


110         A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

son  of  his  sudden  departure.  And  how 
was  he  to  question  her  as  to  that  reason? 
In  escaping  from  these  subterfuges  —  he 
was  compelled  to  lie  again.  With  an  as- 
sumption of  changing  the  subject,  he  said 
calmly,  "  Richardson  thought  he  had  met 
you  before  —  in  Menlo  Park,  I  think." 

Amazed  at  the  evident  irrelevance  of  the 
remark,  Louise  said  coldly,  that  she  did  not 
remember  having  seen  him  before. 

"  I  think  it  was  at  a  Mr.  Johnson's  —  or 
with  a  Mr.  Johnson  —  or  perhaps  at  one  of 
those  Spanish  ranches  —  I  think  he  men- 
tioned some  name  like  Pico  !  " 

Louise  looked  at  him  wonderingly  for  an 
instant,  and  then  gave  way  to  a  frank,  irre- 
pressible laugh,  which  lent  her  delicate  but 
rather  set  little  face  all  the  color  he  had 
missed.  Partially  relieved  by  her  uncon- 
cern, and  yet  mortified  that  he  had  only  pro- 
voked her  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  he  tried  to 
laugh  also. 

"  Then,  to  be  quite  plain,"  said  Louise, 
wiping  her  now  humid  eyes,  "  you  want  me 
to  understand  that  you  really  didn't  pay 


A   PHYLLIS   OF  THE   SIERRAS.          Ill 

sufficient  attention  to  hear  correctly  !  Thank 
you ;  that  's  a  pretty  English  compliment,  I 
suppose." 

"  I  dare  say  you  would  n't  call  it  4  philan- 
dering'?" 

"  I  certainly  should  n't,  for  I  don't  know 
what  *  philandering  '  means." 

Main  waring  could  not  reply,  with  Riche- 
lieu, "  You  ought  to  know  "  ;  nor  did  he 
dare  explain  what  he  thought  it  meant,  and 
how  he  knew  it.  Louise,  however,  inno- 
cently solved  the  difficulty. 

"There  's  a  country  song  I  've  heard 
Minty  sing,"  she  said.  "  It  runs  — 

Come,  Philander,  let  us  be  a-marchin' , 
Every  one  for  his  true  love  a-sarchin' 
Choose  your  true  love  now  or  never.  .  .  . 

Have  you  been  listening  to  her  also  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Main  waring,  with  a  sudden 
incomprehensible,  but  utterly  irrepressible, 
resolution  ;  "  but  I  'm  'a - marchin','  you 
know,  and  perhaps  I  must  '  choose  my  true 
love  now  or  never.'  Will  you  help  me,  Miss 
Macy?" 

He  drew  gently  near  her.    He  had  become 


112         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

quite  white,  but  also  very  manly,  and  it 
struck  her,  more  deeply,  thoroughly,  and 
conscientiously  sincere  than  any  man  who 
had  before  addressed  her.  She  moved 
slightly  away,  as  if  to  rest  herself  by  laying 
both  hands  upon  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"Where  do  you  expect  to  begin  your 
4  sarchin'  '  ?  "  she  said,  leaning  on  the  chair 
and  tilting  it  before  her ;  "  or  are  you  as 
vague  as  usual  as  to  locality  ?  Is  it  at  some 
6  Mr.  Johnson  '  or  '  Mr.  Pico,'  or  "  — 

"  Here/'  he  interrupted  boldly. 

"  I  really  think  you  ought  to  first  tell  my 
cousin  that  you  are  going  away  to-morrow," 
she  said,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  It 's  such 
short  notice.  She  's  just  in  there."  She 
nodded  her  pretty  head,  without  raising  her 
eyes,  towards  the  hall. 

"  But  it  may  not  be  so  soon,"  said  Main- 
waring. 

"  Oh,  then  the  '  sarchin' '  is  not  so  impor- 
tant ?  "  said  Louise,  raising  her  head,  and 
looking  towards  the  hall  with  some  uneasy 
but  indefinable  feminine  instinct. 

She   was   right ;    the    sitting  -  room   door 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.  113 

opened,  and  Mrs.  Bradley  made  her  smiling 
appearance. 

"Mr.  Main  waring  was  just  looking  for 
you,"  said  Louise,  for  the  first  time  raising 
her  eyes  to  him.  "  He  's  not  only  sent  off 
Mr.  Richardson,  but  he  's  going  away  him-, 
self  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Bradley  looked  from  the  one  to  the 
other  in  mute  wonder.  Mainwaring  cast  an 
imploring  glance  at  Louise,  which  had  the 
desired  effect.  Much  more  seriously,  and  in 
a  quaint,  business-like  way,  the  young  girl 
took  it  upon  herself  to  explain  to  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley that  Richardson  had  brought  the  invalid 
some  important  news  that  would,  unfortu- 
nately, not  only  shorten  his  stay  in  America, 
but  even  compel  him  to  leave  The  Lookout 
sooner  than  he  expected,  perhaps  to-morrow. 
Mainwaring  thanked  her  with  his  eyes,  and 
then  turned  to  Mrs.  Bradley. 

"  Whether  I  go  to-morrow  or  next  day," 
he  said  with  simple  and  earnest  directness, 
"  I  intend,  you  know,  to  see  you  soon  again, 
either  here  or  in  my  own  home  in  England. 
I  do  not  know,"  he  added  with  marked 


114          A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

gravity,  "  that  I  have  succeeded  in  convin- 
cing you  that  I  have  made  your  family  al- 
ready well  known  to  my  people,  and  that " 
—  he  fixed  his  eyes  with  a  meaning  look  on 
Louise  —  "  no  matter  when,  or  in  what  way, 
you  come  to  them,  your  place  is  made  ready 
for  you.  You  may  not  like  them,  you  know  : 
the  governor  is  getting  to  be  an  old  man  — 
perhaps  too  old  for  young  Americans  —  but 
they  will  like  you,  and  you  must  put  up  with 
that.  My  mother  and  sisters  know  Miss 
Macy  as  well  as  I  do,  and  will  make  her  one 
of  the  family." 

The  conscientious  earnestness  with  which 
these  apparent  conventionalities  were  ut- 
tered, and  some  occult  quality  of  quiet  con- 
viction in  the  young  man's  manner,  brought 
a  pleasant  sparkle  to  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley and  Louise. 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  gayly,  "  our 
going  to  England  is  quite  beyond  our  pres- 
ent wildest  dreams  ;  nothing  but  a  windfall, 
an  unexpected  rise  in  timber,  or  even  the 
tabooed  hotel  speculation,  could  make  it 
possible." 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.         115 

"  But  /  shall  take  the  liberty  of  trying  to 
present  it  to  Mr.  Bradley  to-night  in  some 
practical  way  that  may  convince  even  his 
critical  judgment,"  said  Main  waring,  still 
seriously.  "  It  will  be,"  he  added  more 
lightly,  "  the  famous  testimonial  of  my  cure 
which  I  promised  you." 

"  And  you  will  find  Mr.  Bradley  so  scep- 
tical that  you  will  be  obliged  to  defer  your 
going,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  triumphantly. 
"  Come,  Louise,  we  must  not  forget  that  we 
have  still  Mr.  Mainwaring's  present  com- 
fort to  look  after;  that  Minty  has  basely 
deserted  us,  and  that  we  ourselves  must  see 
that  the  last  days  of  our  guest  beneath  our 
roof  are  not  remembered  for  their  priva- 
tion." 

She  led  Louise  away  with  a  half-mis- 
chievous suggestion  of  maternal  propriety, 
and  left  Mainwaring  once  more  alone  on  the 
veranda. 

He  had  done  it !  Certainly  she  must  have 
understood  his  meaning,  and  there  was 
nothing  left  for  him  to  do  but  to  acquaint 
Bradley  with  his  intentions  to-night,  and 


116          A  PHYLLIS   OF   TEE  SIERRAS. 

press  her  for  a  final  answer  in  the  morning. 
There  would  be  no  indelicacy  then  in  asking 
her  for  an  interview  more  free  from  inter- 
ruption than  this  public  veranda.  With- 
out conceit,  he  did  not  doubt  what  the  an- 
swer would  be.  His  indecision,  his  sudden 
resolution  to  leave  her,  had  been  all  based 
upon  the  uncertainty  of  his  own  feelings, 
the  propriety  of  his  declaration,  the  possi- 
bility of  some  previous  experience  of  hers 
that  might  compromise  him.  Convinced  by 
her  unembarrassed  manner  of  her  innocence, 
or  rather  satisfied  of  her  indifference  to 
Richardson's  gossip,  he  had  been  hurried  by 
his  feelings  into  an  unexpected  avowal. 
Brought  up  in  the  perfect  security  of  his 
own  social  position,  and  familiarly  conscious 
—  without  vanity  —  of  its  importance  and 
power  in  such  a  situation,  he  believed,  with- 
out undervaluing  Louise's  charms  or  inde- 
pendence, that  he  had  no  one  else  than  him- 
self to  consult.  Even  the  slight  uneasiness 
that  still  pursued  him  was  more  due  to  his 
habitual  conscientiousness  of  his  own  inten- 
tion than  to  any  fear  that  she  would  not  fully 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.          117 

respond  to  it.  Indeed,  with  his  conserva- 
tive ideas  of  proper  feminine  self-restraint, 
Louise's  calm  passivity  and  undemonstrative 
attitude  were  a  proof  of  her  superiority; 
had  she  blushed  over-much,  cried  or  thrown 
herself  into  his  arms,  he  would  have  doubted 
the  wisdom  of  so  easy  a  selection.  It  was 
true  he  had  known  her  scarcely  three  weeks ; 
if  he  chose  to  be  content  with  that,  his  own 
accessible  record  of  three  centuries  should 
be  sufficient  for  her,  and  condone  any  irreg- 
ularity. 

Nevertheless,  as  an  hour  slipped  away  and 
Louise  did  not  make  her  appearance  — 
either  on  the  veranda  or  in  the  little  sit- 
ting-room off  the  hall,  Mainwaring  became 
more  uneasy  as  to  the  incompleteness  of 
their  interview.  Perhaps  a  faint  suspicion 
of  the  inadequacy  of  her  response  began  to 
trouble  him  ;  but  he  still  fatuously  regarded 
it  rather  as  owing  to  his  own  hurried  and 
unfinished  declaration.  It  was  true  that  he 
had  n't  said  half  what  he  intended  to  say ; 
it  was  true  that  she  might  have  misunder- 
stood it  as  the  conventional  gallantry  of  the 


118         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

situation,  as  —  terrible  thought !  —  the  light 
banter  of  the  habitual  love-making  Ameri- 
can, to  which  she  had  been  accustomed ; 
perhaps  even  now  she  relegated  him  to  the 
level  of  Greyson,  and  this  accounted  for  her 
singular  impassiveness  —  an  impassiveness 
that  certainly  was  singular  now  he  reflected 
upon  it  —  that  might  have  been  even  con- 
tempt. The  last  thought  pricked  his  deep 
conscientiousness;  he  walked  hurriedly  up 
and  down  the  veranda,  and  then  suddenly 
reentering  his  room,  took  up  a  sheet  of  note- 
paper,  and  began  to  write  to  her  :  — 

"  Can  you  grant  me  a  few  moments'  inter- 
view alone  ?  I  cannot  bear  you  should  think 
that  what  I  was  trying  to  tell  you  when  we 
were  interrupted  was  prompted  by  anything 
but  the  deepest  sincerity  and  conviction,  or 
that  I  am  willing  it  should  be  passed  over 
lightly  by  you  or  be  forgotten.  Pray  give 
me  a  chance  of  proving  it,  by  saying  you 
will  see  me.  F.  M." 

But  how  should  he  convey  this  to  her? 
His  delicacy  revolted  against  handing  it  to 
her  behind  Mrs.  Bradley's  back,  or  the  pres- 


A  PHYLLIS   OF   THE  SIERRAS.          119 

tidigitation  of  slipping  it  into  her  lap  or 
under  her  plate  before  them  at  luncheon  ; 
he  thought  for  an  instant  of  the  Chinaman, 
but  gentlemen  —  except  in  that  "  mirror  of 
nature  "  the  stage  —  usually  hesitate  to  sub- 
orn other  people's  servants,  or  entrust  a  wo- 
man's secret  to  her  inferiors.  He  remem- 
bered that  Louise's  room  was  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  house,  and  its  low  window  gave 
upon  the  veranda,  and  was  guarded  at  night 
by  a  film  of  white  and  blue  curtains  that 
were  parted  during  the  day,  to  allow  a  tri- 
angular revelation  of  a  pale  blue  and  white 
draped  interior.  Mainwaring  reflected  that 
the  low  inside  window  ledge  was  easily  ac- 
cessible from  the  veranda,  would  afford  a 
capital  lodgment  for  the  note,  and  be  quickly 
seen  by  the  fair  occupant  of  the  room  on  en- 
tering. He  sauntered  slowly  past  the  win- 
dow; the  room  was  empty,  the  moment 
propitious.  A  slight  breeze  was  stirring  the 
blue  ribbons  of  the  curtain ;  it  would  be 
necessary  to  secure  the  note  with  something ; 
he  returned  along  the  veranda  to  the  steps, 
where  he  had  noticed  a  small  irregular  stone 


120         A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS 

lying,  which  had  evidently  escaped  from 
Richelieu's  bag  of  treasure  specimens,  and 
had  been  overlooked  by  that  ingenuous  child. 
It  was  of  a  pretty  peacock-blue  color,  and, 
besides  securing  a  paper,  would  be  sure  to 
attract  her  attention.  He  placed  his  note 
on  the  inside  ledge,  and  the  blue  stone  atop, 
and  went  away  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

Another  half  hour  passed  without  inci- 
dent. He  could  hear  the  voices  of  the  two 
women  in  the  kitchen  and  dining-room. 
After  a  while  they  appeared  to  cease,  and 
he  heard  the  sound  of  an  opening  door.  It 
then  occurred  to  him  that  the  veranda  was 
still  too  exposed  for  a  confidential  interview, 
and  he  resolved  to  descend  the  steps,  pass 
before  the  windows  of  the  kitchen  where 
Louise  might  see  him,  and  penetrate  the 
shrubbery,  where  she  might  be  induced  to 
follow  him.  They  would  not  be  interrupted 
nor  overheard  there. 

But  he  had  barely  left  the  veranda  before 
the  figure  of  Richelieu,  who  had  been  pa- 
tiently waiting  for  Mainwaring's  disappear- 
ance, emerged  stealthily  from  the  shrubbery. 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.          121 

He  had  discovered  his  loss  on  handing  his 
"  fire  assays  "  to  the  good-humored  Bradley 
for  later  examination,  and  he  had  retraced 
his  way,  step  by  step,  looking  everywhere 
for  his  missing  stone  with  the  unbounded 
hopefulness,  lazy  persistency,  and  lofty  dis- 
regard for  time  and  occupation  known  only 
to  the  genuine  boy.  He  remembered  to 
have  placed  his  knotted  bag  upon  the  ve- 
randa, and,  slipping  off  his  stiff  boots  slowly 
and  softly,  slid  along  against  the  wall  of  the 
house,  looking  carefully  on  the  floor,  and 
yet  preserving  a  studied  negligence  of  de- 
meanor, with  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  his 
small  mouth  contracted  into  a  singularly 
soothing  and  almost  voiceless  whistle  — 
Richelieu's  own  peculiar  accomplishment. 
But  no  stone  appeared.  Like  most  of  his 
genus  he  was  superstitious,  and  repeated  to 
himself  the  cabalistic  formula  :  "  Losin  's 
seekin's,  findin's  keepin's  "  —  presumed  to 
be  of  great  efficacy  in  such  cases  —  with  re- 
ligious fervor.  He  had  laboriously  reached 
the  end  of  the  veranda  when  he  noticed  the 
open  window  of  Louise's  room,  and  stopped 


122         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEJtRAS. 

as  a  prefunctory  duty  to  look  in.  And  then 
Richelieu  Sharpe  stood  for  an  instant  utterly 
confounded  and  aghast  at  this  crowning 
proof  of  the  absolute  infamy  and  sickening 
enormity  of  Man. 

There  was  his  stone  —  Ms,  Richelieu X 
own  specimen,  carefully  gathered  by  him- 
self and  none  other  —  and  now  stolen,  ab- 
stracted, "  skyugled,"  "  smouged,"  "  hooked  " 
by  this  "  rotten,  skunkified,  long-legged, 
splay-footed,  hoss-laughin ',  nigger-toothed, 
or'nary  despot !  "  And,  worse  than  all,  ac- 
tually made  to  do  infamous  duty  as  a  love 
token !  —  a  "  candy-gift !  "  —  a  "philanderin' 
box !  "  to  his,  Richelieu's,  girl  —  for  Louise 
belonged  to  that  innocent  and  vague  outside 
seraglio  of  Richelieu's  boyish  dreams  —  and 
put  atop  of  a  letter  to  her  !  and  Providence 
permitted  such  an  outrage  !  "  Wot  was  he, 
Richelieu,  sent  to  school  for,  and  organized 
wickedness  in  the  shape  of  gorilla  Injins 
like  this  allowed  to  ride  high  horses  rampant 
over  Calif orney !  "  He  looked  at  the  heav- 
ens in  mute  appeal.  And  then  —  Provi- 
dence not  immediately  interfering  —  he 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIEKRAS.          123 

thrust  his  own  small  arm  into  the  window, 
regained  his  priceless  treasure,  and  fled 
swiftly. 

A  fateful  silence  ensued.  The  wind 
slightly  moved  the  curtain  outward,  as  if  in 
a  playful  attempt  to  follow  him,  and  then 
subsided.  A  moment  later,  apparently  re- 
enforced  by  other  winds,  or  sympathizing 
with  Richelieu,  it  lightly  lifted  the  unlucky 
missive  and  cast  it  softly  from  the  window. 
But  here  another  wind,  lying  in  wait,  caught 
it  cleverly,  and  tossed  it,  in  a  long  curve, 
into  the  abyss.  For  an  instant  it  seemed  to 
float  lazily,  as  on  the  mirrored  surface  of  a 
lake,  until,  turning  upon  its  side,  it  suddenly 
darted  into  utter  oblivion. 

When  Mainwaring  returned  from  the 
shrubbery,  he  went  softly  to  the  window. 
The  disappearance  of  the  letter  and  stone 
satisfied  him  of  the  success  of  his  stratagem, 
and  for  the  space  of  three  hours  relieved 
his  anxiety.  But  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
finding  no  response  from  Louise,  his  former 
uneasiness  returned.  Was  she  offended,  or 
—  the  first  doubt  of  her  acceptance  of  him 


124          A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

crossed  his  mind !  A  sudden  and  inexpli- 
cable sense  of  shame  came  upon  him.  At 
the  same  moment,  he  heard  his  name  called 
from  the  steps,  turned  —  and  beheld  Minty. 

Her  dark  eyes  were  shining  with  a  pleas- 
ant light,  and  her  lips  parted  on  her  white 
teeth  with  a  frank,  happy  smile.  She  ad- 
vanced and  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it 
with  a  mingling  of  disappointment  and  em- 
barrassment. 

"  You  're  wondering  why  I  kem  on  here, 
arter  I  sent  word  this  morning  that  I  kel- 
kilated  not  to  come.  Well,  'twixt  then  and 
now  suthin'  's  happened.  We  've  had  fine 
doin's  over  at  our  house,  you  bet!  Pop 
don't  know  which  end  he  's  standin'  on ;  and 
I  reckon  that  for  about  ten  minutes  I  did  n't 
know  my  own  name.  But  ez  soon  ez  I  got 
fairly  hold  o'  the  hull  thing,  and  had  it  put 
straight  in  my  mind,  I  sez  to  myself,  Minty 
Sharpe,  sez  I,  the  first  thing  for  you  to  do 
now,  is  to  put  on  yer  bonnet  and  shawl,  and 
trapse  over  to  Jim  Bradley's  and  help  them 
two  womenfolks  get  dinner  for  themselves 
and  that  sick  stranger.  And,"  continued 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          125 

Minty,  throwing  herself  into  a  chair  and 
fanning  her  glowing  face  with  her  apron, 
"  yer  I  am !  " 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  what  has  hap- 
pened," said  Mainwaring,  with  a  constrained 
smile,  and  an  uneasy  glance  towards  the 
house. 

"  That 's  so,"  said  Minty,  with  a  brilliant 
laugh.  "  I  clean  forgot  the  hull  gist  of  the 
thing.  Well,  we  're  rich  folks  now  —  over 
thar'  on  Barren  Ledge  !  That  onery  brother 
of  mine,  Richelieu,  hez  taken  some  of  his 
specimens  over  to  Jirn  Bradley  to  be  tested. 
And  Bradley,  just  to  please  that  child,  takes 
'em;  and  not  an  hour  ago  Bradley  comes 
running,  likety  switch,  over  to  Pop  to  tell 
him  to  put  up  his  notices,  for  the  hull  of 
that  ledge  where  the  forge  stands  is  a  mine 
o'  silver  and  copper.  Afore  ye  knew  it, 
Lordy !  half  the  folks  outer  the  Summit 
and  the  mill  was  scattered  down  thar  all  over 
it.  Richardson  —  that  stranger  ez  knows  you 
—  kem  thar  too  with  Jim,  and  he  allows,  ef 
Bradley 's  essay  is  right,  it 's  worth  more  than 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  ez  it  stands  ! " 


126          A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  congratulate  you,  Miss 
Sharpe,"  said  Mainwaring  with  an  attempt 
at  interest,  but  his  attention  still  preoccu- 
pied with  the  open  doorway. 

"  Oh,  they  know  all  about  it !  "  said  Minty, 
following  the  direction  of  his  abstracted  eyes 
with  a  slight  darkening  of  her  own,  ".I  jest 
kem  out  o'  the  kitchen  the  other  way,  and 
Jim  sent  'em  a  note  ;  but  I  allowed  I  'd  tell 
you  myself.  Specially  ez  you  was  going 
away  to-morrow." 

"  Who  said  I  was  going  away  to-mor- 
row ?  "  asked  Mainwaring,  uneasily. 

"  Loo  Macy !  " 

"  Ah  —  she  did  ?  But  I  may  change  my 
mind,  you  know !  "  he  continued,  with  a 
faint  smile. 

Minty  shook  her  curls  decisively.  "  I 
reckon  she  knows,"  she  said  dryly,  "she's 
got  law  and  gospel  for  wot  she  says.  But 
yer  she  comes.  Ask  her  !  Look  yer,  Loo," 
she  added,  as  the  two  women  appeared  at 
the  doorway,  with  a  certain  exaggeration  of 
congratulatory  manner  that  struck  Main- 
waring  as  being  as  artificial  and  disturbed 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          127 

as  his  own,  "  did  n't  Sir  Francis  yer  say  he 
was  going  to-morrow  ?  " 

"That's  what  I  understood!"  returned 
Louise,  with  cold  astonishment,  letting  her 
clear  indifferent  eyes  fall  upon  Mainwaring. 
"  I  do  not  know  that  he  has  changed  his 
mind." 

"Unless,  as  Miss  Sharpe  is  a  great  capi- 
talist now,  she  is  willing  to  use  her  powers 
of  persuasion,"  added  Mrs.  Bradley,  with  a 
slight  acidulous  pointing  of  her  usual  prim 
playfulness. 

"  I  reckon  Minty  Sharpe  's  the  same  ez  she 
allus  wos,  unless  more  so,"  returned  Minty, 
with  an  honest  egotism  that  carried  so  much 
conviction  to  the  hearer  as  to  condone  its 
vanity.  "  But  I  kem  yer  to  do  a  day's  work, 
gals,  and  I  allow  to  pitch  in  and  do  it,  and 
not  sit  yer  swoppin'  compliments  and  keep- 
ing him  from  packin'  his  duds.  Onless,"  she 
stopped,  and  looked  around  at  the  uneasy, 
unsympathetic  circle  with  a  faint  tremulous- 
ness  of  lip  that  belied  the  brave  black  eyes 
above  it,  "  onless  I  'm  in  yer  way." 

The  two  women  sprang  forward  with   a 


128         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

feminine  bewildering  excess  of  protestation  ; 
and  Mainwaring,  suddenly  pierced  through 
his  outer  selfish  embarrassment  to  his  more 
honest  depths,  stammered  quickly  — 

"  Look  here,  Miss  Sharpe,  if  you  think  of 
running  away  again,  after  having  come  all 
the  way  here  to  make  us  share  the  knowl- 
edge of  your  good  fortune  and  your  better 
heart,  by  Jove  !  I  '11  go  back  with  you." 

But  here  the  two  women  effusively  hur- 
ried her  away  from  the  dangerous  proximity 
of  such  sympathetic  honesty,  and  a  moment 
later  Mainwaring  heard  her  laughing  voice, 
as  of  old,  ringing  in  the  kitchen.  And  then, 
as  if  unconsciously  responding  to  the  signifi- 
cant common  sense  that  lay  in  her  last  allu- 
sion to  him,  he  went  to  his  room  and  grimly 
began  his  packing. 

He  did  not  again  see  Louise  alone.  At 
their  informal  luncheon  the  conversation 
turned  upon  the  more  absorbing  topic  of  the 
Sharpes'  discovery,  its  extent,  and  its  prob- 
able effect  upon  the  fortunes  of  the  locality. 
He  noticed,  abstractedly,  that  both  Mrs. 
Bradley  and  her  cousin  showed  a  real  or  as- 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.         129 

sumed  scepticism  of  its  value.  This  did  not 
disturb  him  greatly,  except  for  its  intended 
check  upon  Minty's  enthusiasm.  He  was 
more  conscious,  perhaps,  —  with  a  faint 
touch  of  mortified  vanity,  —  that  his  own 
contemplated  departure  was  of  lesser  impor- 
tance than  this  local  excitement.  Yet  in 
his  growing  conviction  that  all  was  over  — 
if,  indeed,  it  had  ever  begun  —  between  him- 
self and  Louise,  he  was  grateful  to  this  nat- 
ural diversion  of  incident  which  spared  them 
both  an  interval  of  embarrassing  common- 
places. And,  with  the  suspicion  of  some 
indefinable  insincerity  —  either  of  his  own 
or  Louise's  —  haunting  him,  Minty's  frank 
heartiness  and  outspoken  loyalty  gave  him 
a  strange  relief.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the 
clear  cool  breath  of  the  forest  had  entered 
with  her  homely  garments,  and  the  steadfast 
truths  of  Nature  were  incarnate  in  her  shin- 
ing eyes.  How  far  this  poetic  fancy  would 
have  been  consistent  or  even  coexistent  with 
any  gleam  of  tenderness  or  self-forgetfulness 
in  Louise's  equally  pretty  orbs,  I  leave  the 
satirical  feminine  reader  to  determine. 


130         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

It  was  late  when  Bradley  at  last  returned, 
bringing  further  and  more  complete  corrob- 
oration  of  the  truth  of  Sharpe's  good  for- 
tune. Two  experts  had  arrived,  one  from 
Pine  Flat  and  another  from  the  Summit,  and 
upon  this  statement  Richardson  had  offered 
to  purchase  an  interest  in  the  discovery  that 
would  at  once  enable  the  blacksmith  to 
develop  his  mine.  "I  should  n't  wonder, 
Mainwaring,"  he  added  cheerfully,  "if  he 'd 
put  you  into  it,  too,  and  make  your  eternal 
fortune." 

"  With  larks  falling  from  the  skies  all 
round  you,  it 's  a  pity  you  could  n't  get  put 
into  something,"  said  Mrs.  Bradley,  straight- 
ening her  pretty  brows. 

"  I  'm  not  a  gold-miner,  my  dear,"  said 
Bradley,  pleasantly. 

"Nor  a  gold-finder,"  returned  his  wife, 
with  a  cruel  little  depression  of  her  pink 
nostrils,  "  but  you  can  work  all  night  in  that 
stupid  mill  and  then,"  she  added  in  a  low 
voice,  to  escape  Minty's  attention,  "  spend 
the  whole  of  the  next  day  examining  and 
following  up  a  boy's  discovery  that  his  own 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.         131 

relations  had  been  too  lazy  and  too  ignorant 
to  understand  and  profit  by.  I  suppose  that 
next  you  will  be  hunting  up  a  site  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Canyon,  where  somebody 
else  can  put  up  a  hotel  and  ruin  your  own 
prospects." 

A  sensitive  shadow  of  pain  quickly  dimmed 
Bradley's  glance  —  not  the  first  or  last  time 
evidently,  for  it  was  gradually  bringing  out 
a  background  of  sadness  in  his  intelligent 
eyes.  But  the  next  moment  he  turned 
kindly  to  Mainwaring,  and  began  to  deplore 
the  necessity  of  his  early  departure,  which 
Richardson  had  already  made  known  to  him 
with  practical  and  satisfying  reasons. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  forget,  my  dear  fellow, 
that  your  most  really  urgent  business  is  to 
look  after  your  health ;  and  if,  hereafter, 
you  '11  only  remember  the  old  Lookout 
enough  to  impress  that  fact  upon  you,  I 
shall  feel  that  any  poor  service  I  have  ren- 
dered you  has  been  amply  repaid." 

Mainwaring,  notwithstanding  that  he 
winced  slightly  at  this  fateful  echo  of 
Louise's  advice,  returned  the  grasp  of  his 


132         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEltfiAS. 

friend's  hand  with  an  honest  pressure  equal 
to  his  own.  He  longed  now  only  for  the 
coming  of  Richardson,  to  complete  his 
scheme  of  grateful  benefaction  to  his  host. 

The  banker  came  fortunately  as  the  con- 
versation began  to  flag ;  and  Mrs.  Bradley's 
half-coquettish  ill-humor  of  a  pretty  woman, 
and  Louise's  abstracted  indifference,  were 
becoming  so  noticeable  as  to  even  impress 
Minty  into  a  thoughtful  taciturnity.  The 
graciousness  of  his  reception  by  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley somewhat  restored  his  former  ostentatious 
gallantry,  and  his  self-satisfied,  domineering 
manner  had  enough  masculine  power  in  it  to 
favorably  affect  the  three  women,  who,  it  must 
be  confessed,  were  a  little  bored  by  the  finer 
abstractions  of  Bradley  and  Mainwaring. 
After  a  few  moments,  Mainwaring  rose  and, 
with  a  significant  glance  at  Richardson  to 
remind  him  of  his  proposed  conference  with 
Bradley,  turned  to  leave  the  room.  He  was 
obliged  to  pass  Louise,  who  was  sitting  by 
the  table.  His  attention  was  suddenly  ar- 
rested by  something  in  her  hand  with  which 
she  was  listlessly  playing.  It  was  the  stone 
which  he  had  put  on  his  letter  to  her. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          138 

As  he  had  not  been  present  when  Brad- 
ley arrived,  he  did  not  know  that  this  fate- 
ful object  had  been  brought  home  by  his 
host,  who,  after  receiving  it  from  Richelieu, 
had  put  it  in  his  pocket  to  illustrate  his 
story  of  the  discovery.  On  the  contrary,  it 
seemed  that  Louise's  careless  exposure  of  his 
foolish  stratagem  was  gratuitously  and  pur- 
posely cruel.  Nevertheless,  he  stopped  and 
looked  at  her. 

"  That 's  a  queer  stone  you  have  there," 
he  said,  in  a  tone  which  she  recognized  as 
coldly  and  ostentatiously  civil. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  without  looking  up ; 
"  it  's  the  outcrop  of  that  mine."  She 
handed  it  to  him  as  if  to  obviate  any  fur- 
ther remark.  "  I  thought  you  had  seen  it 
before." 

"The  outcrop,"  he  repeated  dryly.  "That 
is  —  it  —  it  —  it  is  the  indication  or  sign 
of  something  important  that 's  below  it  — 
is  n't  it?" 

Louise  shrugged  her  shoulders  sceptically. 
"  It  don't  follow.  It  's  just  as  likely  to 
cover  rubbish,  after  you  've  taken  the  trouble 
to  look." 


134         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,  with  measured  gen- 
tleness, and  passed  quietly  out  of  the  room. 

The  moon  had  already  risen  when  Brad- 
ley, with  his  brierwood  pipe,  preceded  Rich- 
ardson upon  the  veranda.  The  latter  threw 
his  large  frame  into  Louise's  rocking-chair 
near  the  edge  of  the  abyss ;  Bradley,  with 
his  own  chair  tilted  against  the  side  of  the 
house  after  the  national  fashion,  waited  for 
him  to  speak.  The  absence  of  Mainwaring 
and  the  stimulus  of  Mrs.  Bradley 's  gracious- 
ness  had  given  the  banker  a  certain  conde- 
scending familiarity,  which  Bradley  received 
with  amused  and  ironical  tolerance  that  his 
twinkling  eyes  made  partly  visible  in  the 
darkness. 

"  One  of  the  things  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  about,  Bradley,  was  that  old  affair  of 
the  advance  you  asked  for  from  the  Bank. 
We  did  not  quite  see  our  way  to  it  then, 
and,  speaking  as  a  business  man,  it  is  n't 
really  a  matter  of  business  now ;  but  it  has 
lately  been  put  to  me  in  a  light  that  would 
make  the  doing  of  it  possible  —  you  under- 
stand ?  The  fact  of  the  matter  is  this  :  Sir 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.         135 

Robert  Main  waring,  the  father  of  the  young 
fellow  you  've  got  in  your  house,  is  one  of 
our  directors  and  largest  shareholders,  and  I 
can  tell  you  —  if  you  don't  suspect  it  already 
—  you  've  been  lucky,  Bradley  —  deucedly 
lucky — to  have  had  him  in  your  house  and 
to  have  rendered  him  a  service.  He  's  the 
heir  to  one  of  the  largest  landed  estates  in 
his  county,  one  of  the  oldest  county  fami- 
lies, and  will  step  into  the  title  some  day. 
But,  ahem !  "  he  coughed  patronizingly, 
"you  knew  all  that!  No?  Well,  that 
charming  wife  of  yours,  at  least,  does ;  for 
she 's  been  talking  about  it.  Gad,  Bradley, 
it  takes  those  women  to  find  out  anything  of 
that  kind,  eh  ?  " 

The  light  in  Bradley's  eyes  and  his  pipe 
went  slowly  out  together. 

"  Then  we  '11  say  that  affair  of  the  ad- 
vance is  as  good  as  settled.  It 's  Sir  Rob- 
ert's wish,  you  understand, —  and  this  young 
fellow's  wish,  —  and  if  you  '11  come  down  to 
the  Bank  next  week  we  '11  arrange  it  for 
you  ;  I  think  you  '11  admit  they  're  doing  the 
handsome  to  you  and  yours.  And  there- 


136         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

fore,"  he  lowered  his  voice  confidentially, 
"  you  '11  see,  Bradley,  that  it  will  only  be 
the  honorable  thing  in  you,  you  know,  to 
look  upon  the  affair  as  finished,  and,  in  fact, 
to  do  all  you  can "  —  he  drew  his  chair 
closer  —  "  to  —  to  —  to  drop  this  other 
foolishness." 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you !  " 
said  Bradley,  slowly. 

"  But  your  wife  does,  if  you  don't,"  re- 
turned Richardson,  bluntly ;  "  I  mean  this 
foolish  flirtation  between  Louise  Macy  and 
Mainwaring,  which  is  utterly  preposterous. 
Why,  man,  it  can't  possibly  come  to  any- 
thing, and  it  could  n't  be  allowed  for  a  mo- 
ment. Look  at  his  position  and  hers.  I 
should  think,  as  a  practical  man,  it  would 
strike  you  "  — 

"  Only  one  thing  strikes  me,  Richardson," 
interrupted  Bradley,  in  a  singularly  distinct 
whisper,  rising,  and  moving  nearer  the 
speaker ;  "  it  is  that  you  're  sitting  perilously 
near  the  edge  of  this  veranda.  For,  by  the 
living  God,  if  you  don't  take  yourself  out  of 
that  chair  and  out  of  this  house,  I  won't  be 
answerable  for  the  consequences !  " 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          137 

"  Hold  on  there  a  minute,  will  you  ?  "  said 
Mainwaring's  voice  from  the  window. 

Both  men  turned  towards  it.  A  long  leg 
was  protruding  from  Mainwaring's  window ; 
it  was  quickly  followed  by  the  other  leg  and 
body  of  the  occupant,  and  the  next  moment 
Mainwaring  came  towards  the  two  men,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Not  so  loud,"  he  said,  looking  towards 
the  house. 

"  Let  that  man  go,"  said  Bradley,  in  a  re- 
pressed voice.  "  You  and  I,  Mainwaring, 
can  speak  together  afterwards." 

"  That  man  must  stay  until  he  hears  what 
I  have  got  to  say,"  said  Mainwaring,  step- 
ping between  them.  He  was  very  white  and 
grave  in  the  moonlight,  but  very  quiet ;  and 
he  did  not  take  his  hands  from  his  pockets. 
"  I  've  listened  to  what  he  said  because  he 
came  here  on  my  business,  which  was  simply 
to  offer  to  do  you  a  service.  That  was  all, 
Bradley,  that  /  told  him  to  do.  This  rot 
about  what  he  expects  of  you  in  return  is  his 
own  impertinence.  If  you  'd  punched  his 
head  when  he  began  it,  it  would  have  been 


138          A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

all  right.  But  since  he  has  begun  it,  before 
he  goes  I  think  he  ought  to  hear  me  tell  you 
that  I  have  already  offered  myself  to  Miss 
Macy,  and  she  has  refused  me !  If  she  had 
given  me  the  least  encouragement,  I  should 
have  told  you  before.  Further,  I  want  to 
say  that,  in  spite  of  that  man's  insinuations, 
I  firmly  believe  that  no  one  is  aware  of  the 
circumstance  except  Miss  Macy  and  myself." 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  intimating  that  any- 
thing had  happened  that  was  not  highly  hon- 
orable and  creditable  to  you  and  the  young 
lady,"  began  Richardson,  hurriedly. 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  was  necessary  for 
you  to  have  any  ideas  on  the  subject  at  all," 
said  Main  waring,  sternly ;  "  nor  that,  hav- 
ing been  shown  how  you  have  insulted  this 
gentleman  and  myself,  you  need  trouble  us 
an  instant  longer  with  your  company.  You 
need  not  come  back.  I  will  manage  my 
other  affairs  myself." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Main  waring  —  but  —  you 
may  be  sure  that  I  shall  certainly  take  the 
first  opportunity  to  explain  myself  to  Sir 
Robert,"  returned  Richardson  as,  with  an 
attempt  at  dignity,  he  strode  away. 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          139 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence. 

"  Don't  be  too  hard  upon  a  fellow,  Brad- 
ley," said  Mainwaring,  as  Bradley  remained 
dark  and  motionless  in  the  shadow.  "It  is 
a  poor  return  I  'm  making  you  for  your  kind- 
ness, but  I  swear  I  never  thought  of  any- 
thing like  —  like  —  this." 

"  Nor  did  I,"  said  Bradley,  bitterly. 

"  I  know  it,  and  that 's  what  makes  it  so 
infernally  bad  for  me.  Forgive  me,  won't 
you?  Think  of  me,  old  fellow,  as  the 
wretchedest  ass  you  ever  met,  but  not  such 
a  cad  as  this  would  make  me  !  "  As  Main- 
waring  stepped  out  from  the  moonlight  to- 
wards him  with  extended  hand,  Bradley 
grasped  it  warmly. 

"  Thanks  —  there  —  thanks,  old  fellow  ! 
And,  Bradley  —  I  say  —  don't  say  anything 
to  your  wife,  for  I  don't  think  she  knows  it. 
And,  Bradley  —  look  here  —  I  did  n't  like 
to  be  anything  but  plain  before  that  fellow ; 
but  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  now  that  it 's 
all  over,  that  I  really  think  Louise  —  Miss 
Macy  —  did  n't  altogether  understand  me 
either." 


140         A  PHYLLIS  OP  THE  SIERRAS. 

With  another  shake  of  the  hand  they  sep- 
arated for  the  night.  For  a  long  time  after 
Mainwaring  had  gone,  Bradley  remained 
gazing  thoughtfully  into  the  Great  Canyon. 
He  thought  of  the  time  when  he  had  first 
come  there,  full  of  life  and  enthusiasm,  mak- 
ing an  ideal  world  of  his  pure  and  wholesome 
eyrie  on  the  ledge.  What  else  he  thought 
will,  probably,  never  be  known  until  the  mis- 
understanding of  honorable  and  chivalrous 
men  by  a  charming  and  illogical  sex  shall 
incite  the  audacious  pen  of  some  more  dar- 
ing romancer. 

When  he  returned  to  the  house,  he  said 
kindly  to  his  wife,  "  I  have  been  thinking 
to-day  about  your  hotel  scheme,  and  I  shall 
write  to  Sacramento  to-night  to  accept  that 
capitalist's  offer." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  sun  was  just  rising.  In  two  years 
of  mutation  and  change  it  had  seen  the  little 
cottage  clinging  like  a  swallow's  nest  to  the 
rocky  caves  of  a  great  Sierran  canyon  give 
way  to  a  straggling,  many-galleried  hotel, 
and  a  dozen  blackened  chimneys  rise  above 
the  barren  tableland  where  once  had  stood 
the  lonely  forge.  To  that  conservative  orb 
of  light  and  heat  there  must  have  been  a 
peculiar  satisfaction  in  looking  down  a  few 
hours  earlier  upon  the  battlements  and  ga- 
bles of  Oldenhurst,  whose  base  was  deeply 
embedded  in  the  matured  foundations  and 
settled  traditions  of  an  English  county.  For 
the  rising  sun  had  for  ten  centuries  found 
Oldenhurst  in  its  place,  from  the  heavy 
stone  terrace  that  covered  the  dead-and-for- 
gotten  wall,  where  a  Roman  sentinel  had 
once  paced,  to  the  little  grating  in  the  clois- 
tered quadrangle,  where  it  had  seen  a  Cister- 


142         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

cian  brother  place  the  morning  dole.  It  had 
daily  welcomed  the  growth  of  this  vast  and 
picturesque  excrescence  of  the  times ;  it  had 
smiled  every  morning  upon  this  formidable 
yet  quaint  incrustation  of  power  and  custom, 
ignoring,  as  Oldenhurst  itself  had  ignored, 
the  generations  who  possessed  it,  the  men 
who  built  it,  the  men  who  carried  it  with 
fire  and  sword,  the  men  who  had  lied  and 
cringed  for  it,  the  King  who  had  given  it  to 
a  favorite,  the  few  brave  hearts  who  had 
died  for  it  in  exile,  and  the  one  or  two  who 
had  bought  and  paid  for  it.  For  Oldenhurst 
had  absorbed  all  these  and  more  until  it 
had  become  a  story  of  the  past,  incarnate 
in  stone,  greenwood,  and  flower ;  it  had  even 
drained  the  life-blood  from  adjacent  hamlets, 
repaying  them  with  tumuli  growths  like  its 
own,  in  the  shape  of  purposeless  lodges', 
quaintly  incompetent  hospitals  and  schools, 
and  churches  where  the  inestimable  blessing 
and  knowledge  of  its  gospel  were  taught  and 
fostered.  Nor  had  it  dealt  more  kindly  with 
the  gentry  within  its  walls,  sending  some  to 
the  scaffold,  pillorying  others  in  infamous 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS.          143 

office,  reducing  a  few  to  poverty,  and  halting 
its  later  guests  with  gout  and  paralysis.  It 
had  given  them  in  exchange  the  dubious  im- 
mortality of  a  portrait  gallery,  from  which 
they  stared  with  stony  and  equal  resignation ; 
it  had  preserved  their  useless  armor  and  ac- 
coutrements;  it  had  set  up  their  marble 
effigies  in  churches  or  laid  them  in  cross- 
legged  attitudes  to  trip  up  the  unwary,  until 
in  death,  as  in  life,  they  got  between  the 
congregation  and  the  Truth  that  was  taught 
there.  It  had  allowed  an  Oldenhurst  cru- 
sader, with  a  broken  nose  like  a  pugilist,  on 
the  strength  of  his  having  been  twice  to  the 
Holy  Land,  to  hide  the  beautifully  illumin- 
ated Word  from  the  lowlier  worshipper  on 
the  humbler  benches ;  it  had  sent  an  icono- 
clastic Bishop  of  the  Reformation  to  a  nearer 
minster  to  ostentatiously  occupy  the  place  of 
the  consecrated  image  he  had  overthrown. 
Small  wonder  that  crowding  the  Oldenhurst 
retainers  gradually  into  smaller  space,  with 
occasional  Sabbath  glimpses  of  the  living 
rulers  of  Oldenhurst  already  in  railed-off  ex- 
altation, it  had  forced  them  to  accept  Olden- 


144         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

hurst  as  a  synonym  of  eternity,  and  left  the 
knowledge  of  a  higher  Power  to  what  time 
they  should  be  turned  out  to  their  longer 
sleep  under  the  tender  grass  of  the  beautiful 
outer  churchyard. 

And  even  so,  while  every  stone  of  the  pile 
of  Oldenhurst  and  every  tree  in  its  leafy 
park  might  have  been  eloquent  with  the 
story  of  vanity,  selfishness,  and  unequal  jus- 
tice, it  had  been  left  to  the  infinite  mercy  of 
Nature  to  seal  their  lips  with  a  spell  of 
beauty  that  left  mankind  equally  dumb ; 
earth,  air,  and  moisture  had  entered  into  a 
gentle  conspiracy  to  soften,  mellow,  and 
clothe  its  external  blemishes  of  breach  and 
accident,  its  irregular  design,  its  additions, 
accretions,  ruins,  and  lapses  with  a  harmo- 
nious charm  of  outline  and  color ;  poets,  ro- 
mancers, and  historians  had  equally  con- 
spired to  illuminate  the  dark  passages  and 
uglier  inconsistencies  of  its  interior  life  with 
the  glamour  of  their  own  fancy.  The  frag- 
ment of  menacing  keep,  with  its  choked 
oubliettes,  became  a  bower  of  tender  ivy; 
the  grim  story  of  its  crimes,  properly  edited 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          145 

by  a  contemporary  bard  of  the  family, 
passed  into  a  charming  ballad.  Even  the 
superstitious  darkness  of  its  religious  house 
had  escaped  through  fallen  roof  and  shat- 
tered wall,  leaving  only  the  foliated  and 
sun-pierced  screen  of  front,  with  its  rose- 
window  and  pinnacle  of  cross  behind.  Pil- 
grims from  all  lands  had  come  to  see  it ;  fierce 
Republicans  had  crossed  the  seas  to  gaze  at 
its  mediaeval  outlines,  and  copy  them  in 
wood  and  stucco  on  their  younger  soil.  Pol- 
iticians had  equally  pointed  to  it  as  a  con- 
vincing evidence  of  their  own  principles  and 
in  refutation  of  each  other ;  and  it  had  sur- 
vived both.  For  it  was  this  belief  in  its  own 
perpetuity  that  was  its  strength  and  weak- 
ness. And  that  belief  was  never  stronger 
than  on  this  bright  August  morning,  when  it 
was  on  the  verge  of  dissolution.  A  telegram 
brought  to  Sir  Robert  Mainwaring  had  even 
then  as  completely  shattered  and  disinte- 
grated Oldenhurst,  in  all  it  was  and  all  it 
meant,  as  if  the  brown-paper  envelope  had 
been  itself  charged  with  the  electric  fluid. 
Sir  Robert  Mainwaring,  whose  family  had 


146         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS* 

for  three  centuries  possessed  Oldenhursfc, 
had  received  the  news  of  his  financial  ruin  ; 
and  the  vast  pile  which  had  survived  the 
repeated  invasion  of  superstition,  force,  in- 
trigue, and  even  progress,  had  succumbed 
to  a  foe  its  founders  and  proprietors  had 
loftily  ignored  and  left  to  Jews  and  traders. 
The  acquisition  of  money,  except  by  despoil- 
ment, gift,  royal  favor,  or  inheritance,  had 
been  unknown  at  Oldenhurst.  The  present 
degenerate  custodian  of  its  fortunes,  stag- 
gering under  the  weight  of  its  sentimental 
mortmain  already  alluded  to,  had  speculated 
in  order  to  keep  up  its  material  strength, 
that  was  gradually  shrinking  through  im- 
poverished land  and  the  ruined  trade  it  had 
despised.  He  had  invested  largely  in  Cali- 
fornia mines,  and  was  the  chief  shareholder 
in  a  San  Francisco  Bank.  But  the  mines 
had  proved  worthless,  the  Bank  had  that 
morning  suspended  payment,  owing  to  the 
failure  of  a  large  land  and  timber  company 
on  the  Sierras  which  it  had  imprudently 
"carried."  The  spark  which  had  demol- 
ished Oldenhurst  had  been  fired  from  the 


A  PHYLLIS  OF   TEE  SIERRAS.         147 

new  telegraph-station  in  the  hotel  above  the 
great  Sierran  canyon. 

There  was  a  large  house-party  at  Olden- 
hurst  that  morning.  But  it  had  been  a  part 
of  the  history  of  the  Mainwarings  to  accept 
defeat  gallantly  and  as  became  their  blood. 
Sir  Percival,  —  the  second  gentleman  on  the 
left  as  you  entered  the  library,  —  unhorsed, 
dying  on  a  distant  moor,  with  a  handful  of 
followers,  abandoned  by  a  charming  Prince 
and  a  miserable  cause,  was  scarcely  a  greater 
hero  than  this  ruined  but  undaunted  gentle- 
man of  eighty,  entering  the  breakfast-room 
a  few  hours  later  as  jauntily  as  his  gout 
would  permit,  and  conscientiously  dispens- 
ing the  hospitalities  of  his  crumbling  house. 
When  he  had  arranged  a  few  pleasure  par- 
ties for  the  day  and  himself  thoughtfully 
anticipated  the  different  tastes  of  his  guests, 
he  turned  to  Lady  Mainwaring. 

"  Don't  forget  that  somebody  ought  to  go 
to  the  station  to  meet  the  Bradleys.  Frank 
writes  from  St.  Moritz  that  they  are  due 
here  to-day." 

Lady  Main  waring  glanced  quickly  at  her 


148         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

husband,  and  said  sotto  voce,  "  Do  you  think 
they  11  care  to  come  now  ?  They  probably 
have  heard  all  about  it." 

"Not  how  it  affects  me,"  returned  Sir 
Robert,  in  the  same  tone ;  "  and  as  they 
might  think  that  because  Frank  was  with 
them  on  that  California  mountain  we  would 
believe  it  had  something  to  do  with  Rich- 
ardson involving  the  Bank  in  that  wretched 
company,  we  must  really  insist  upon  their 
coming." 

"  Bradley  !  "  echoed  the  Hon.  Captain 
FitzHarry,  overhearing  the  name  during  a 
late  forage  on  the  sideboard,  "  Bradley !  — 
there  was  an  awfully  pretty  American  at 
Biarritz,  travelling  with  a  cousin,  I  think  — 
a  Miss  Mason  or  Macy.  Those  sort  of  peo- 
ple, you  know,  who  have  a  companion  as 
pretty  as  themselves  ;  bring  you  down  with 
the  other  barrel  if  one  misses  —  eh  ?  Very 
clever,  both  of  them,  and  hardly  any  ac- 
cent." 

"  Mr.  Bradley  was  a  very  dear  friend  of 
Frank's,  and  most  kind  to  him,"  said  Lady 
Mainwaring,  gravely. 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.          149 

"  Did  n't  know  there  was  a  Mr.  Bradley, 
really.  He  did  n't  come  to  the  fore  then," 
said  the  unabashed  Captain.  "  Deuced  hard 
to  follow  up  those  American  husbands ! " 

"  And  their  wives  would  n't  thank  you,  if 
you  did,"  said  Lady  Griselda  Armiger,  with 
a  sweet  smile. 

"  If  it  is  the  Mrs.  Bradley  I  mean,"  said 
Lady  Canterbridge  from  the  lower  end  of 
the  table,  looking  up  from  her  letter,  "  who 
looks  a  little  like  Mrs.  Summertree,  and  has 
a  pretty  cousin  with  her  who  has  very  good 
frocks,  I  'm  afraid  you  won't  be  able  to  get 
her  down  here.  She  's  booked  with  engage- 
ments for  the  next  six  weeks.  She  and  her 
cousin  made  all  the  running  at  Grigsby 
Eoyal,  and  she  has  quite  deposed  that  other 
American  beauty  in  Northforeland's  good 
graces.  She  regularly  afficlied  him,  and  it 
is  piteous  to  see  him  follow  her  about.  No, 
my  dear ;  I  don't  believe  they  '11  come  to 
any  one  of  less  rank  than  a  Marquis.  If 
they  did,  I  'm  sure  Canterbridge  would  have 
had  them  at  Buckenthorpe  already." 

"  I  wonder  if  there  was  ever  anything  in 


150          A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

Frank's  admiration  of  this  Miss  Macy  ? " 
said  Lady  Main  waring  a  few  moments  later, 
lingering  beside  her  husband  in  his  study. 

"I  really  don't  know,"  said  Sir  Kobert, 
abstractedly :  "  his  letters  were  filled  with 
her  praises,  and  Richardson  thought  "  — 

"  Pray  don't  mention  that  man's  name 
again,"  said  Lady  Mainwaring,  with  the 
first  indication  of  feeling  she  had  shown. 
"  I  should  n't  trust  him." 

"But  why  do  you  ask?"  returned  her 
husband. 

Lady  Mainwaring  was  silent  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  She  is  very  rich,  I  believe,"  she 
said  slowly.  "  At  least,  Frank  writes  that 
some  neighbors  of  theirs  whom  he  met  in 
the  Engadine  told  him  they  had  sold  the  site 
of  that  absurd  cottage  where  he  was  ill  for 
some  extravagant  sum." 

"  My  dear  Geraldine,"  said  the  old  man, 
affectionately,  taking  his  wife's  hand  in  his 
own,  that  now  for  the  first  time  trembled, 
"  if  you  have  any  hope  based  upon  what  you 
are  thinking  of  now,  let  it  be  the  last  and 
least.  You  forget  that  Paget  told  us  that 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.          151 

with  the  best  care  he  could  scarcely  ensure 
Frank's  return  to  perfect  health.  Even  if 
God  in  his  mercy  spared  him  long  enough 
to  take  my  place,  what  girl  would  be  willing 
to  tie  herself  to  a  man  doomed  to  sickness 
and  poverty?  Hardly  the  one  you  speak  of, 
my  dear." 

Lady  Canterbridge  proved  a  true  prophet. 
Mrs.  Bradley  and  Miss  Macy  did  not  come, 
regretfully  alleging  a  previous  engagement 
made  on  the  continent  with  the  Duke  of 
Northforeland  and  the  Marquis  of  Dunge- 
ness ;  but  the  unexpected  and  apocryphal 
husband  did  arrive.  "  I  myself  have  not 
seen  my  wife  and  cousin  since  I  returned 
from  my  visit  to  your  son  in  Switzerland.  I 
am  glad  they  were  able  to  amuse  themselves 
without  waiting  for  me  at  a  London  hotel, 
though  I  should  have  preferred  to  have  met 
them  here."  Sir  Robert  and  Lady  Main- 
waring  were  courteous  but  slightly  embar- 
rassed. Lady  Canterbridge,  who  had  come 
to  the  station  in  bored  curiosity,  raised  her 
clear  blue  eyes  to  his.  He  did  not  look  like 
a  fool,  a  complaisant  or  fashionably-cynical 


152         A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

husband  —  this  well-dressed,  well-mannered, 
but  quietly  and  sympathetically  observant 
man.  Did  he  really  care  for  his  selfish 
wife?  was  it  perfect  trust  or  some  absurd 
Transatlantic  custom  ?  She  did  not  under- 
stand him.  It  wearied  her  and  she  turned 
her  eyes  indifferently  away.  Bradley,  a  lit- 
tle irritated,  he  knew  not  why,  at  the  scru- 
tiny of  this  tall,  handsome,  gentlemanly-look- 
ing woman,  who,  however,  in  spite  of  her 
broad  shoulders  and  narrow  hips  possessed 
a  refined  muliebrity  superior  to  mere  wo- 
manliness of  outline,  turned  slightly  towards 
Sir  Robert.  "  Lady  Canterbridge,  Frank's 
cousin,"  explained  Sir  Robert,  hesitatingly, 
as  if  conscious  of  some  vague  awkwardness. 
Bradley  and  Lady  Canterbridge  both  bowed, 
—  possibly  the  latter's  salutation  was  the 
most  masculine,  —  and  Bradley,  eventually 
forgetting  her  presence,  plunged  into  an  ear- 
nest, sympathetic,  and  intelligent  account  of 
the  condition  in  which  he  had  found  the  in- 
valid at  St.  Moritz.  The  old  man  at  first 
listened  with  an  almost  perfunctory  courtesy 
and  a  hesitating  reserve ;  but  as  Bradley  was 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.         153 

lapsing  into  equal  reserve  and  they  drove  up 
to  the  gates  of  the  quadrangle,  he  unexpect- 
edly warmed  with  a  word  or  two  of  serious 
welcome.  Looking  up  with  a  half -uncon- 
scious smile,  Bradley  met  Lady  Canter- 
bridge's  examining  eyes. 

The  next  morning,  finding  an  opportunity 
to  be  alone  with  him,  Bradley,  with  a  tact- 
ful mingling  of  sympathy  and  directness,  in- 
formed his  host  that  he  was  cognizant  of  the 
disaster  that  had  overtaken  the  Bank,  and 
delicately  begged  him  to  accept  of  any  ser- 
vice he  could  render  him.  "  Pardon  me," 
he  said,  "  if  I  speak  as  plainly  to  you  as  I 
would  to  your  son  :  my  friendship  for  him 
justifies  an  equal  frankness  to  any  one  he 
loves ;  but  I  should  not  intrude  upon  your 
confidence  if  I  did  not  believe  that  my 
knowledge  and  assistance  might  be  of  benefit 
to  you.  Although  I  did  not  sell  my  lands  to 
Richardson  or  approve  of  his  methods,"  he 
continued,  "  I  fear  it  was  some  suggestion  of 
mine  that  eventually  induced  him  to  form 
the  larger  and  more  disastrous  scheme  that 
ruined  the  Bank.  So  you  see,"  he  added 


154         A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

lightly,  "  I  claim  a  right  to  offer  you  my  ser- 
vices." Touched  by  Bradley 's  sincerity  and 
discreet  intelligence,  Sir  Robert  was  equally 
frank.  During  the  recital  of  his  Calif ornian 
investments  —  a  chronicle  of  almost  fatuous 
speculation  and  imbecile  enterprise  —  Brad- 
ley was  profoundly  moved  at  the  naive  igno- 
rance of  business  and  hopeless  ingenuousness 
of  this  old  habitue  of  a  cynical  world  and  an 
intriguing  and  insincere  society,  to  whom  no 
scheme  had  been  too  wild  for  acceptance. 
As  Bradley  listened  with  a  half -saddened 
smile  to  the  grave  visions  of  this  aged  en- 
thusiast, he  remembered  the  son's  unsophis- 
ticated simplicity:  what  he  had  considered 
as  the  "  boyishness  "  of  immaturity  was  the 
taint  of  the  utterly  unpractical  Main  waring 
blood.  It  was  upon  this  blood,  and  others 
like  it,  that  Oldenhurst  had  for  centuries 
waxed  and  fattened. 

Bradley  was  true  to  his  promise  of  assist- 
ance, and  with  the  aid  of  two  or  three  of  his 
brother-millionaires,  whose  knowledge  of  the 
resources  of  the  locality  was  no  less  power- 
ful and  convincing  than  the  security  of  their 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.          155 

actual  wealth,  managed  to  stay  the  immedi- 
ate action  of  the  catastrophe  until  the  affairs 
of  the  Sierran  Land  and  Timber  Company 
could  be  examined  and  some  plan  of  recon- 
struction arranged.  During  this  interval  of 
five  months,  in  which  the  credit  of  Sir  Rob- 
ert Mainwaring  was  preserved  with  the  se- 
cret of  his  disaster,  Bradley  was  a  frequent 
and  welcome  visitor  to  Oldenhurst.  Apart 
from  his  strange  and  chivalrous  friendship 
for  the  Mainwarings  —  which  was  as  incom- 
prehensible to  Sir  Robert  as  Sir  Robert's 
equally  eccentric  and  Quixotic  speculations 
had  been  to  Bradley  —  he  began  to  feel  a 
singular  and  weird  fascination  for  the  place. 
A  patient  martyr  in  the  vast  London  house 
he  had  taken  for  his  wife  and  cousin's 
amusement,  he  loved  to  escape  the  loneliness 
of  its  autumn  solitude  or  the  occasional 
greater  loneliness  of  his  wife's  social  tri- 
umphs. The  handsome,  thoughtful  man  who 
sometimes  appeared  at  the  foot  of  his  wife's 
table  or  melted  away  like  a  well-bred  ghost 
in  the  hollow  emptiness  of  her  brilliant  recep- 
tions, piqued  the  languid  curiosity  of  a  few. 


156         A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

A  distinguished  personage,  known  for  his 
tactful  observance  of  convenances  that  others 
forgot,  had  made  a  point  of  challenging  this 
gentlemanly  apparition,  and  had  followed  it 
up  with  courteous  civilities,  which  led  to  ex- 
change of  much  respect  but  110  increase  of 
acquaintance.  He  had  even  spent  a  week 
at  Buckenthorpe,  with  Canterbridge  in  the 
coverts  and  Lady  Canterbridge  in  the  music- 
room  and  library.  He  had  returned  more 
thoughtful,  and  for  some  time  after  was  more 
frequent  in  his  appearances  at  home,  and 
more  earnest  in  his  renewed  efforts  to  induce 
his  wife  to  return  to  America  with  him. 

"  You  '11  never  be  happy  anywhere  but  in 
California,  among  those  common  people," 
she  replied ;  "  and  while  I  was  willing  to 
share  your  poverty  there"  she  added  dryly, 
"  I  prefer  to  share  your  wealth  among  civ- 
ilized ladies  and  gentlemen.  Besides,"  she 
continued,  "  we  must  consider  Louise.  She 
is  as  good  as  engaged  to  Lord  Dunshunner, 
and  I  do  not  intend  that  you  shall  make  a 
mess  of  her  affairs  here  as  you  did  in  Cali- 
fornia." 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERKAS.         157 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  heard  of  Lord 
Dunshunner's  proposals ;  it  was  the  first 
allusion  she  had  ever  made  to  Louise  and 
Mainwaring. 

Meantime,  the  autumn  leaves  had  fallen 
silently  over  the  broad  terraces  of  Olden- 
hurst  with  little  changes  to  the  fortunes  of 
the  great  house  itself.  The  Christmas  house- 
party  included  Lady  Canterbridge,  whose 
husband  was  still  detained  at  Homburg  in 
company  with  Dunshunner;  and  Bradley, 
whose  wife  and  cousin  lingered  on  the  conti- 
nent. He  was  slightly  embarrassed  when 
Lady  Canterbridge  turned  to  him  one  after- 
noon as  they  were  returning  from  the  lake 
and  congratulated  him  abruptly  upon  Lou- 
ise's engagement. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  care  to  be  congratu- 
lated," she  said,  as  he  did  not  immediately 
respond,  "  and  you  had  as  little  to  do  with  it 
as  with  that  other?  It  is  a  woman's  func- 
tion." 

"  What  other  ?  "  echoed  Bradley. 

Lady  Canterbridge  slightly  turned  her 
handsome  head  towards  him  as  she  walked 


158         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

unbendingly  at  his  side.  "  Tell  me  how  you 
manage  to  keep  your  absolute  simplicity  so 
fresh.  Do  you  suppose  it  was  n't  known  at 
Oldenhurst  that  Frank  had  quite  compro- 
mised himself  with  Miss  Macy  over  there  ?  " 

"  It  certainly  was  not  known  6  over 
there,'  "  said  Bradley,  curtly. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me." 

Such  an  appeal  from  the  tall,  indifferent 
woman  at  his  side,  so  confidently  superior  to 
criticism,  and  uttered  in  a  lower  tone,  made 
him  smile,  albeit  uneasily. 

"  I  only  meant  to  congratulate  you,"  she 
continued  carelessly.  "  Dunshunner  is  not 
a  bad  sort  of  fellow,  and  will  come  into  a 
good  property  some  day.  And  then,  society 
is  so  made  up  of  caprice,  just  now,  that  it  is 
well  for  your  wife's  cousin  to  make  the  most 
of  her  opportunities  while  they  last.  She  is 
very  popular  now ;  but  next  season  "  — 
Seeing  that  Bradley  remained  silent,  she  did 
not  finish  her  sentence,  but  said  with  her 
usual  abruptness,  "  Do  you  know  a  Miss 
Araminta  Eulalie  Sharpe  ?  " 

Bradley  started.    Could  any  one  recognize 


A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS.         159 

honest  Minty  in  the  hopeless  vulgarity 
which  this  fine  lady  had  managed  to  care- 
lessly import  into  her  name  ?  His  eye 
kindled. 

"  She  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  Lady  Can- 
terbridge." 

"  How  fortunate !  Then  I  can  please  you 
by  giving  you  good  news  of  her.  She  is  the 
coming  sensation.  They  say  she  is  very 
rich,  but  quite  one  of  the  people,  you  know: 
in  fact,  she  makes  no  scruples  of  telling  you 
her  father  was  a  blacksmith,  I  think,  and 
takes  the  dear  old  man  with  her  everywhere. 
FitzHarry  raves  about  her,  and  says  her 
naivete*  is  something  too  delicious.  She  is 
regularly  in  with  some  of  the  best  people  al- 
ready. Lady  Dungeness  has  taken  her  up, 
and  Northforeland  is  only  waiting  for  your 
cousin's  engagement  to  be  able  to  go  over 
decently.  Shall  I  ask  her  to  Buckenthorpe  ? 
—  come,  now,  as  an  apology  for  my  rudeness 
to  your  cousin?"  She  was  very  womanly 
now  in  spite  of  her  high  collar,  her  straight 
back,  and  her  tightly-fitting  jacket,  as  she 
stood  there  smiling.  Suddenly,  her  smile 
faded  ;  she  drew  her  breath  in  quickly. 


160         A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

She  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  usually 
thoughtful  face  and  eyes,  now  illuminated 
with  some  pleasant  memory. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  smilingly,  yet  with 
a  certain  hesitation,  as  he  thought  of  The 
Lookout  and  Araminta  Eulalie  Sharpe,  and 
tried  to  reconcile  them  with  the  lady  before 
him.  "  I  should  like  it  very  much." 

"Then  you  have  known  Miss  Sharpe  a 
long  time  ?  "  continued  Lady  Canterbridge 
as  they  walked  on. 

"  While  we  were  at  The  Lookout  she  was 
our  nearest  neighbor." 

"  And  I  suppose  your  wife  will  consider 
it  quite  proper  for  you  to  see  her  again  at 
my  house  ?  "  said  Lady  Canterbridge,  with  a 
return  of  conventional  levity. 

"  Oh  !  quite,"  said  Bradley. 

They  had  reached  the  low  Norman-arched 
side-entrance  to  the  quadrangle.  As  Brad- 
ley swung  open  the  bolt-studded  oaken  door 
to  let  her  pass,  she  said  carelessly,  — 

"  Then  you  are  not  coming  in  now  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  shall  walk  a  little  longer." 

"  And  I  am  quite  forgiven  ?  " 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERRAS.          161 

"  I  am  thanking  you  very  much,"  he  said, 
smiling  directly  into  her  blue  eyes.  She 
lowered  them,  and  vanished  into  the  dark- 
ness of  the  passage. 

The  news  of  Minty's  success  was  further 
corroborated  by  Sir  Robert,  who  later  that 
evening  called  Bradley  into  the  study. 
"  Frank  has  been  writing  from  Nice  that  he 
has  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  some  old 
Californian  friends  of  yours  —  a  Mr.  and 
Miss  Sharpy.  Lady  Canterbridge  says  that 
they  are  well  known  in  London  to  some  of 
our  friends,  but  I  would  like  to  ask  you 
something  about  them.  Lady  Mainwaring 
was  on  the  point  of  inviting  them  here  when 
I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Sharpe  asking 
for  a  business  interview.  Pray  who  is  this 
Sharpe?" 

u  You  say  he  writes  for  a  business  inter- 
view ?  "  asked  Bradley. 

"Yes." 

Bradley  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then 
said  quietly,  "  Perhaps,  then,  I  am  justified 
in  a  breach  of  confidence  to  him,  in  order  to 
answer  your  question.  He  is  the  man  who 


162          A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

has  assumed  all  the  liabilities  of  the  Sierran 
Land  and  Timber  Company  to  enable  the 
Bank  to  resume  payment.  But  he  did  it  on 
the  condition  that  you  were  never  to  know 
it.  For  the  rest,  he  was  a  blacksmith  who 
made  a  fortune,  as  Lady  Canterbridge  will 
tell  you." 

"  How  very  odd  —  how  kind,  I  mean !  I 
should  like  to  have  been  civil  to  him  on 
Frank's  account  alone." 

"I  should  see  him  on  business  and  be 
civil  to  him  afterwards."  Sir  Robert  re- 
ceived the  American's  levity  with  his  usual 
seriousness. 

"  No,  they  must  come  here  for  Christmas. 
His  daughter  is  ?  "  — 

"Araminta  Eulalie  Sharpe,"  said  Brad- 
ley, in  defiant  memory  of  Lady  Canter- 
bridge. 

Sir  Robert  winced  audibly.  "I  shall 
rely  on  you,  my  dear  boy,  to  help  me  make 
it  pleasant  for  them,"  he  said. 

Christmas  came,  but  not  Minty.  It  drew 
a  large  contingent  from  Oldenhurst  to  the 
quaint  old  church,  who  came  to  view  the 


A  PHYLLIS   OF   THE  S1EK8AS.          163 

green-wreathed  monuments,  and  walls  spot- 
ted with  crimson  berries,  as  if  with  the  blood 
of  former  Oldenhurst  warriors,  and  to  im- 
press the  wondering  villagers  with  the  inef- 
fable goodness  and  bounty  of  the  Creator 
towards  the  Lords  of  Oldenhurst  and  their 
friends.  Sir  Robert,  a  little  gouty,  kept  the 
house,  and  Bradley,  somewhat  uneasy  at  the 
Sharpes'  absence,  but  more  distrait  with 
other  thoughts,  wandered  listlessly  in  the 
long  library.  At  the  lower  angle  it  was  em- 
bayed into  the  octagon  space  of  a  former 
tower,  which  was  furnished  as  a  quaint  re- 
cess for  writing  or  study,  pierced  through  its 
enormous  walls  with  a  lance-shaped  window, 
hidden  by  heavy  curtains.  He  was  gazing 
abstractedly  at  the  melancholy  eyes  of  Sir 
Percival,  looking  down  from  the  dark  panel 
opposite,  when  he  heard  the  crisp  rustle  of 
a  skirt.  Lady  Canterbridge,  tightly  and 
stiffly  buttoned  in  black  from  her  long  nar- 
row boots  to  her  slim,  white-collared  neck, 
stood  beside  him  with  a  prayer-book  in  her 
ungloved  hand.  Bradley  colored  quickly  ; 
the  penetrating  incense  of  the  Christmas 


164          A  PHYLLIS   OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

boughs  and  branches  that  decked  the  walls 
and  ceilings,  mingled  with  some  indefinable 
intoxicating  aura  from  the  woman  at  his  side, 
confused  his  senses.  He  seemed  to  be  losing 
himself  in  some  forgotten  past  coeval  with 
the  long,  quaintly-lighted  room,  the  rich 
hangings,  and  the  painted  ancestor  of  this 
handsome  woman.  He  recovered  himself 
with  an  effort,  and  said,  "  You  are  going  to 
church?  " 

"  I  may  meet  them  coming  home ;  it 's  all 
the  same.  You  like  him?"  she  said  ab- 
ruptly, pointing  to  the  portrait.  "  I  thought 
you  did  not  care  for  that  sort  of  man  over 
there." 

"  A  man  like  that  must  have  felt  the  im- 
potence of  his  sacrifice  before  he  died,  and 
that  condoned  everything,"  said  Bradley, 
thoughtfully. 

"  Then  you  don't  think  him  a  fool  ?  Bob 
says  it  was  a  fair  bargain  for  a  title  and  an 
office,  and  that  by  dying  he  escaped  trial 
and  the  confiscation  of  what  he  had." 

Bradley  did  not  reply. 

"  I   am  disturbing  your   illusions   again. 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.          165 

Yet  I  rather  like  them.  I  think  you  are 
quite  capable  of  a  sacrifice  —  perhaps  you 
know  what  it  is  already." 

He  felt  that  she  was  looking  at  him ;  he 
felt  equally  that  he  could  not  respond  with 
a  commonplace.  He  was  silent. 

"  I  have  offended  you  again,  Mr.  Brad- 
ley," she  said.  "Please  be  Christian,  and 
pardon  me.  You  know  this  is  a  season  of 
peace  and  goodwill."  She  raised  her  blue 
eyes  at  the  same  moment  to  the  Christmas 
decorations  on  the  ceiling.  They  were 
standing  before  the  parted  drapery  of  the 
lance  window.  Midway  between  the  arched 
curtains  hung  a  spray  of  mistletoe  —  the 
conceit  of  a  mischievous  housemaid.  Their 
eyes  met  it  simultaneously. 

Bradley  had  Lady  Canterbridge's  slim, 
white  hand  in  his  own.  The  next  moment 
voices  were  heard  in  the  passage,  and  the 
door  nearly  opposite  to  them  opened  delib- 
erately. The  idea  of  their  apparent  seclu- 
sion and  half  compromising  attitude  flashed 
through  the  minds  of  both  at  the  same  time. 
Lady  Canterbridge  stepped  quickly  back- 


166         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIEKRAS. 

ward,  drawing  Bradley  with  her,  into  the 
embrasure  of  the  window ;  the  folds  of  the 
curtain  swung  together  and  concealed  them 
from  view. 

The  door  had  been  opened  by  the  foot- 
man, ushering  in  a  broad-shouldered  man, 
who  was  carrying  a  travelling-bag  and  an 
umbrella  in  his  hand.  Dropping  into  an 
arm-chair  before  the  curtain,  he  waved  away 
the  footman,  who,  even  now,  mechanically 
repeated  a  previously  vain  attempt  to  relieve 
the  stranger  of  his  luggage. 

"You  leave  that  'ere  grip  sack  where  it 
is,  young  man,  and  tell  Sir  Robert  Mainwar- 
ing  that  Mr.  Demander  Sharpe,  of  Cali- 
f orny,  wishes  to  see  him  —  on  business  —  on 
business,  do  ye'  hear?  You  hang  outer 
that  sentence  —  on  business  1  it 's  about  ez 
much  ez  you  kin  carry,  I  reckon,  and  leave 
that  grip  sack  alone." 

From  behind  the  curtain  Bradley  made  a 
sudden  movement  to  go  forward  ;  but  Lady 
Canterbridge  —  now  quite  pale  but  collected 
—  restrained  him  with  a  warning  movement 
of  her  hand.  Sir  Robert's  stick  and  halting 


A  PHYLLIS    OF  THE  SIERBAS.          167 

step  were  next  heard  along  the  passage,  and 
he  entered  the  room.  His  simple  and  cour- 
teous greeting  of  the  stranger  was  instantly 
followed  by  a  renewed  attack  upon  the  "  grip 
sack,"  and  a  renewed  defence  of  it  by  the 
stranger. 

"No,  Sir  Robert,"  said  the  voice  argu- 
mentatively,  "  this  yer  's  a  business  inter- 
view, and  until  it 's  over  —  if  you  please  — 
we  '11  remain  ez  we  air.  I  'm  Demander 
Sharpe,  of  Californy,  and  I  and  my  darter, 
Minty,  oncet  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
your  boy  over  thar,  and  of  meeting  him  agin 
the  other  day  at  Nice." 

"  I  think,"  said  Sir  Robert's  voice  gently, 
"  that  these  are  not  the  only  claims  you  have 
upon  me.  I  have  only  a  day  or  two  ago 
heard  from  Mr.  Bradley  that  I  owe  to  your 
generous  hands  and  your  disinterested  liber- 
ality the  saving  of  my  California  fortune." 

There  was  the  momentary  sound  of  a 
pushed-back  chair,  a  stamping  of  feet,  and 
then  Mr.  Sharpe's  voice  rose  high  with  the 
blacksmith's  old  querulous  aggrieved  utter- 
ance :  — 


168         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

"  So  it 's  that  finikin',  conceited  Bradley 
agin  —  that 's  giv'  me  away  !  Ef  that  man's 
all-fired  belief  in  his  being  the  Angel  Ga- 
briel and  Dan'l  Webster  rolled  inter  one 
don't  beat  anythinM  I  suppose  that  high- 
flyin'  jay-bird  kalkilated  to  put  you  and  me 
and  my  gal  and  yer  boy  inter  harness  for  his 
four  hoss  chariot  and  he  sittin'  kam  on  the 
box  drivin'  us  !  Why  don't  he  tend  to  his 
own  business,  and  look  arter  his  own  con- 
cerns —  instead  o'  leaving  Jinny  Bradley 
and  Loo  Macy  dependent  on  Kings  and 
Queens  and  titled  folks  gen'rally,  and  he, 
Jim  Bradley,  philanderin'  with  another 
man's  wife  —  while  that  thar  man  is  hard  at 
work  tryin'  to  make  a  honest  livin'  fer  his 
wife,  buckin'  agin  faro  an'  the  tiger  gen'rally 
at  Monaco !  Eh  ?  And  that  man  a-inter- 
meddlin'  with  me  !  Ef,"  continued  the  voice 
dropped  to  a  tone  of  hopeless  moral  convic- 
tion, "  Ef  there  's  a  man  I  mor'lly  despise 
—  it 's  that  finikin'  Jim  Bradley." 

"  You  quite  misunderstand  me,  my  dear 
sir,"  said  Sir  Robert's  hurried  voice;  "he 
told  me  you  had  pledged  him  to  secrecy,  and 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.         169 

he  only  revealed  it  to  explain  why  you 
wished  to  see  me." 

There  was  a  grunt  of  half -placated  wrath 
from  Sharpe,  and  then  the  voice  resumed, 
but  more  deliberately,  "  Well,  to  come  back 
to  business :  you  've  got  a  boy,  Francis,  and 
I  've  got  a  darter,  Araminty.  They  've 
sorter  taken  a  shine  to  each  other  and  they 
want  to  get  married.  Mind  yer  —  wait  a 
moment !  —  it  was  n't  allus  so.  No,  sir ; 
when  my  gal  Araminty  first  seed  your  boy 
in  Calif orny  she  was  poor,  and  she  didn't 
kalkilate  to  get  inter  anybody's  family  un- 
beknownst or  on  sufferance.  Then  she  got 
rich  and  you  got  poor ;  and  then  —  hold  on 
a  minit !  —  she  allows,  does  my  girl,  that 
there  ain't  any  nearer  chance  o'  their  making 
a  match  than  they  were  afore,  for  she  is  n't 
goin'  to  hev  it  said  that  she  married  your 
son  fur  the  chance  of  some  day  becomin' 
Lady  Main  waring." 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Sharpe,"  said  the 
voice  of  the  Baronet,  gravely :  "  I  am  both 
flattered  and  pained  by  what  I  believe  to  be 
the  kindly  object  of  your  visit.  Indeed,  I 


170         A  PHYLLIS  OF   THE  SIERRAS. 

may  say  I  have  gathered  a  suspicion  of  what 
might  be  the  sequel  of  this  most  unhappy  ac- 
quaintance of  my  son  and  your  daughter ; 
but  I  cannot  believe  that  he  has  kept  you  in 
ignorance  of  his  unfortunate  prospects  and 
his  still  more  unfortunate  state  of  health." 

"When  I  told  ye  to  hold  on  a  minit," 
continued  the  blacksmith's  voice,  with  a 
touch  of  querulousness  in  its  accent,  "  that 
was  jist  wot  I  was  comin'  to.  I  knowed 
part  of  it  from  my  own  pocket,  she  knowed 
the  rest  of  it  from  his  lip  and  the  doctors  she 
interviewed.  And  then  she  says  to  me  — 
sez  my  girl  Minty — 'Pop,'  she  sez,  'he's 
got  nothing  to  live  for  now  but  his  title,  and 
that  he  never  may  live  to  get,  so  that  I  think 
ye  kin  jist  go,  Pop,  and  fairly  and  squarely, 
as  a  honest  man,  ask  his  father  to  let  me 
hev  him.'  Them  's  my  darter's  own  words, 
Sir  Eobert,  and  when  I  tell  yer  that  she 's 
got  a  million  o'  dollars  to  back  them,  ye  11 
know  she  means  business  every  time." 

"  Did  Francis  know  that  you  were  coming 
here?" 

"  Bless  ye,  no !     He  don't  know  that  she 


A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS.         171 

would  have  him.  Ef  it  kem  to  that,  he  ain't 
even  asked  her !  She  would  n't  let  him  un- 
till  she  was  sure  of  you." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say  there  is  no  en- 
gagement ?  " 

"  In  course  not.  I  reckoned  to  do  the 
square  thing  first  with  ye." 

The  halting  step  of  the  Baronet  crossing 
the  room  was  heard  distinctly.  He  had 
stopped  beside  Sharpe.  "  My  dear  Mr. 
Sharpe,"  he  said,  in  a  troubled  voice,  "I 
cannot  permit  this  sacrifice.  It  is  too  — 
too  great !  " 

"  Then,"  said  Sharpe's  voice  querulously, 
"  I  'm  afraid  we  must  do  without  your  per- 
mission. I  did  n't  reckon  to  find  a  sort  o' 
British  Jim  Bradley  in  you.  If  you  can't 
permit  my  darter  to  sacrifice  herself  by  mar- 
ry in'  your  son,  I  can't  permit  her  to  sacrifice 
her  love  and  him  by  not  marryin'  him.  So 
I  reckon  this  yer  interview  is  over." 

"  I  am  afraid  we  are  both  old  fools,  Mr. 
Sharpe  ;  but  —  we  will  talk  this  over  with 
Lady  Main  waring.  Come  "  —  There  was 
evidently  a  slight  struggle  near  the  chair 


172         A  PHYLLIS  OF  THE  SIERRAS. 

over  some  inanimate  object.  But  the  next 
moment  the  Baronet's  voice  rose,  persua- 
sively, "  Really,  I  must  insist  upon  relieving 
you  of  your  bag  and  umbrella." 

"  Well,  if  you  '11  let  me  telegraph  *  yes ' 
to  Minty,  I  don't  care  if  yer  do." 

When  the  room  was  quiet  again,  Lady 
Canterbridge  and  James  Bradley  silently 
slipped  from  the  curtain,  and,  without  a  word, 
separated  at  the  door. 

There  was  a  merry  Christmas  at  Olden- 
hurst  and  at  Nice.  But  whether  Minty's 
loving  sacrifice  was  accepted  or  not,  or 
whether  she  ever  reigned  as  Lady  Mainwar- 
ing,  or  lived  an  untitled  widow,  I  cannot 
say.  But  as  Oldenhurst  still  exists  in  all 
its  pride  and  power,  it  is  presumed  that 
the  peril  that  threatened  its  fortunes  was 
averted,  and  that  if  another  heroine  was  not 
found  worthy  of  a  frame  in  its  picture-gal- 
lery, at  least  it  had  been  sustained  as  of  old 
by  devotion  and  renunciation. 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 


THEY  had  all  known  him  as  a  shiftless, 
worthless  creature.  From  the  time  he  first 
entered  Redwood  Camp,  carrying  his  entire 
effects  in  a  red  handkerchief  on  the  end  of 
a  long-handled  shovel,  until  he  lazily  drifted 
out  of  it  on  a  plank  in  the  terrible  inunda- 
tion of  '56,  they  never  expected  anything 
better  of  him.  In  a  community  of  strong 
men  with  sullen  virtues  and  charmingly  fas- 
cinating vices,  he  was  tolerated  as  possessing 
neither  —  not  even  rising  by  any  dominant 
human  weakness  or  ludicrous  quality  to  the 
importance  of  a  butt.  In  the  dramatis  per- 
sons of  Redwood  Camp  he  was  a  simple 
"  super  "  —  who  had  only  passive,  speech- 
less r61es  in  those  fierce  dramas  that  were 
sometimes  unrolled  beneath  its  green-cur- 
tained pines.  Nameless  and  penniless,  he 


174      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD    CAMP. 

was  overlooked  by  the  census  and  ignored 
by  the  tax  collector,  while  in  a  hotly-con- 
tested election  for  sheriff,  when  even  the 
head-boards  of  the  scant  cemetery  were  con- 
sulted to  fill  the  poll-lists,  it  was  discovered 
that  neither  candidate  had  thought  fit  to  avail 
himself  of  his  actual  vote.  He  was  debarred 
the  rude  heraldry  of  a  nickname  of  achieve- 
ment, and  in  a  camp  made  up  of  "  Euchre 
Bills,"  "Poker  Dicks,"  "Profane  Pete," 
and  "  Snap-shot  Harry,"  was  known  vaguely 
as  "  him,"  "  Skeesicks,"  or  "  that  coot."  It 
was  remembered  long  after,  with  a  feeling 
of  superstition,  that  he  had  never  even  met 
with  the  dignity  of  an  accident,  nor  received 
the  fleeting  honor  of  a  chance  shot  meant 
for  somebody  else  in  any  of  the  liberal  and 
broadly  comprehensive  encounters  which 
distinguished  the  camp.  And  the  inunda- 
tion that  finally  carried  him  out  of  it  was 
partly  anticipated  by  his  passive  incompe- 
tency,  for  while  the  others  escaped  —  or 
were  drowned  in  escaping  —  he  calmly 
floated  off  on  his  plank  without  an  opposing 
effort. 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      175 

For  all  that,  Elijah  Martin  —  which  was 
his  real  name  —  was  far  from  being  unamia- 
ble  or  repellent.  That  he  was  cowardly, 
untruthful,  selfish,  and  lazy,  was  undoubt- 
edly the  fact ;  perhaps  it  was  his  peculiar 
misfortune  that,  just  then,  courage,  frank- 
ness, generosity,  and  activity  were  the  dom- 
inant factors  in  the  life  of  Redwood  Camp. 
His  submissive  gentleness,  his  unquestioned 
modesty,  his  half  refinement,  and  his  amia- 
ble exterior  consequently  availed  him  noth- 
ing against  the  fact  that  he  was  missed 
during  a  raid  of  the  Digger  Indians,  and 
lied  to  account  for  it ;  or  that  he  lost  his 
right  to  a  gold  discovery  by  failing  to  make 
it  good  against  a  bully,  and  selfishly  kept 
this  discovery  from  the  knowledge  of  the 
carnp.  Yet  this  weakness  awakened  no  ani- 
mosity in  his  companions,  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  indifference  of  the  camp  to  his  fate 
in  this  final  catastrophe  came  purely  from 
a  simple  forgetfulness  of  one  who  at  that 
supreme  moment  was  weakly  incapable. 

Such  was  the  reputation  and  such  the  an- 
tecedents of  the  man  who,  on  the  15th  of 


176     A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 

March,  1856,  found  himself  adrift  in  a 
swollen  tributary  of  the  Minyo.  A  spring 
freshet  of  unusual  volume  had  flooded  the 
adjacent  river  until,  bursting  its  bounds,  it 
escaped  through  the  narrow,  wedge-shaped 
valley  that  held  Redwood  Camp.  For  a 
day  and  a  night  the  surcharged  river  poured 
half  its  waters  through  the  straggling  camp. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  every  vestige  of  the 
little  settlement  was  swept  away ;  all  that 
was  left  was  scattered  far  and  wide  in  the 
country,  caught  in  the  hanging  branches  of 
water-side  willows  and  alders,  embayed  in 
sluggish  pools,  dragged  over  submerged 
meadows,  and  one  fragment  —  bearing  up 
Elijah  Martin  —  pursuing  the  devious 
courses  of  an  unknown  tributary  fifty  miles 
away.  Had  he  been  a  rash,  impatient  man, 
he  would  have  been  speedily  drowned  in 
some  earlier  desperate  attempt  to  reach  the 
shore ;  had  he  been  an  ordinarily  bold  man, 
he  would  have  succeeded  in  transferring 
himself  to  the  branches  of  some  obstructing 
tree ;  but  he  was  neither,  and  he  clung  to 
his  broken  raft-like  berth  with  an  endurance 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP.      177 

that  was  half  the  paralysis  of  terror  and  half 
the  patience  of  habitual  misfortune.  Event- 
ually he  was  caught  in  a  side  current,  swept 
to  the  bank,  and  cast  ashore  on  an  unex- 
plored wilderness. 

His  first  consciousness  was  one  of  hunger 
that  usurped  any  sentiment  of  gratitude  for 
his  escape  from  drowning.  As  soon  as  his 
cramped  limbs  permitted,  he  crawled  out  of 
the  bushes  in  search  of  food.  He  did  not 
know  where  he  was  ;  there  was  no  sign  of 
habitation  —  or  even  occupation  —  any- 
where. He  had  been  too  terrified  to  notice 
the  direction  in  which  he  had  drifted  — 
even  if  he  had  possessed  the  ordinary  knowl- 
edge of  a  backwoodsman,  which  he  did  not. 
He  was  helpless.  In  his  bewildered  state, 
seeing  a  squirrel  cracking  a  nut  on  the 
branch  of  a  hollow  tree  near  him,  he  made  a 
half-frenzied  dart  at  the  frightened  animal, 
which  ran  away.  But  the  same  association 
of  ideas  in  his  torpid  and  confused  brain 
impelled  him  to  search  for  the  squirrel's 
hoard  in  the  hollow  of  the  tree.  He  ate  the 
few  hazel-nuts  he  found  there,  ravenously. 


178      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

The  purely  animal  instinct  satisfied,  he 
seemed  to  have  borrowed  from  it  a  certain 
strength  and  intuition.  He  limped  through 
the  thicket  not  unlike  some  awkward,  shy 
quadrumane,  stopping  here  and  there  to 
peer  out  through  the  openings  over  the 
marshes  that  lay  beyond.  His  sight,  hear- 
ing, and  even  the  sense  of  smell  had  become 
preternaturally  acute.  It  was  the  latter 
which  suddenly  arrested  his  steps  with  the 
odor  of  dried  fish.  It  had  a  significance 
beyond  the  mere  instincts  of  hunger  —  it 
indicated  the  contiguity  of  some  Indian  en- 
campment. And  as  such  —  it  meant  danger, 
torture,  and  death. 

He  stopped,  trembled  violently,  and  tried 
to  collect  his  scattered  senses.  Redwood 
Camp  had  embroiled  itself  needlessly  and 
brutally  with  the  surrounding  Indians,  and 
only  held  its  own  against  them  by  reckless 
courage  and  unerring  marksmanship.  The 
frequent  use  of  a  casual  wandering  Indian 
as  a  target  for  the  practising  rifles  of  its 
members  had  kept  up  an  undying  hatred  in 
the  heart  of  the  aborigines  and  stimulated 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      179 

them  to  terrible  and  isolated  reprisals.  The 
scalped  and  skinned  dead  body  of  Jack 
Trainer,  tied  on  his  horse  and  held  hideously 
upright  by  a  cross  of  wood  behind  his  sad- 
dle, had  passed,  one  night,  a  slow  and 
ghastly  apparition,  into  camp  ;  the  corpse  of 
Dick  Ryner  had  been  found  anchored  on 
the  river-bed,  disembowelled  and  filled  with 
stone  and  gravel.  The  solitary  and  unpro- 
tected member  of  Redwood  Camp  who  fell 
into  the  enemy's  hands  was  doomed. 

Elijah  Martin  remembered  this,  but  his 
fears  gradually  began  to  subside  in  a  certain 
apathy  of  the  imagination,  which,  perhaps, 
dulled  his  apprehensions  and  allowed  the  in- 
stinct of  hunger  to  become  again  uppermost. 
He  knew  that  the  low  bark  tents,  or  wig- 
wams, of  the  Indians  were  hung  with  strips 
of  dried  salmon,  and  his  whole  being  was 
now  centred  upon  an  attempt  to  stealthily 
procure  a  delicious  morsel.  As  yet  he  had 
distinguished  no  other  sign  of  life  or  habita- 
tion; a  few  moments  later,  however,  and 
grown  bolder  with  an  animal-like  trustful- 
ness in  his  momentary  security,  he  crept  out 


180      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

of  the  thicket  and  found  himself  near  a 
long,  low  mound  or  burrow-like  structure  of 
mud  and  bark  on  the  river-bank.  A  single 
narrow  opening,  not  unlike  the  entrance  of 
an  Esquimau  hut,  gave  upon  the  river. 
Martin  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  the 
character  of  the  building.  It  was  a  "  sweat- 
house,"  an  institution  common  to  nearly  all 
the  aboriginal  tribes  of  California.  Half  a 
religious  temple,  it  was  also  half  a  sanitary 
asylum,  was  used  as  a  Russian  bath  or  super- 
heated vault,  from  which  the  braves,  swelter- 
ing and  stiffling  all  night,  by  smothered  fires, 
at  early  dawn  plunged,  perspiring,  into  the 
ice-cold  river.  The  heat  and  smoke  were 
further  utilized  to  dry  and  cure  the  long 
strips  of  fish  hanging  from  the  roof,  and  it 
was  through  the  narrow  aperture  that  served 
as  a  chimney  that  the  odor  escaped  which 
Martin  had  detected.  He  knew  that,  as  the 
bathers  only  occupied  the  house  from  mid- 
night to  early  morn,  it  was  now  probably 
empty.  He  advanced  confidently  toward  it. 
He  was  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  the 
small  open  space  between  it  and  the  river 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP.      181 

was  occupied  by  a  rude  scaffolding,  like  that 
on  which  certain  tribes  exposed  their  dead, 
but  in  this  instance  it  only  contained  the 
feathered  leggings,  fringed  blanket,  and 
eagle-plumed  head-dress  of  some  brave.  He 
did  not,  however,  linger  in  this  plainly  visi- 
ble area,  but  quickly  dropped  on  all-fours 
and  crept  into  the  interior  of  the  house. 
Here  he  completed  his  feast  with  the  fish, 
and  warmed  his  chilled  limbs  on  the  embers 
of  the  still  smouldering  fires.  It  was  while 
drying  his  tattered  clothes  and  shoeless  feet 
that  he  thought  of  the  dead  brave's  useless 
leggings  and  moccasins,  and  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  would  be  less  likely  to  attract 
the  Indians'  attention  from  a  distance  and 
provoke  a  ready  arrow,  if  he  were  disguised 
as  one  of  them.  Crawling  out  again,  he 
quickly  secured,  not  only  the  leggings,  but 
the  blanket  and  head-dress,  and  putting 
them  on,  cast  his  own  clothes  into  the  stream. 
A  bolder,  more  energetic,  or  more  provident 
man  would  have  followed  the  act  by  quickly 
making  his  way  back  to  the  thicket  to  re- 
connoitre, taking  with  him  a  supply  of  fish 


182     A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

for  future  needs.  But  Elijah  Martin  suc- 
cumbed again  to  the  recklessness  of  inertia ; 
he  yielded  once  more  to  the  animal  instinct 
of  momentary  security.  He  returned  to  the 
interior  of  the  hut,  curled  himself  again  on 
the  ashes,  and  weakly  resolving  to  sleep  un- 
til moonrise,  and  as  weakly  hesitating,  ended 
by  falling  into  uneasy  but  helpless  stupor. 
When  he  awoke,  the  rising  sun,  almost 
level  with  the  low  entrance  to  the  sweat- 
house,  was  darting  its  direct  rays  into  the 
interior,  as  if  searching  it  with  fiery  spears. 
He  had  slept  ten  hours.  He  rose  trem- 
blingly to  his  knees.  Everything  was  quiet 
without ;  he  might  yet  escape.  He  crawled 
to  the  opening.  The  open  space  before  it 
was  empty,  but  the  scaffolding  was  gone. 
The  clear,  keen  air  revived  him.  As  he 
sprang  out,  erect,  a  shout  that  nearly 
stunned  him.  seemed  to  rise  from  the  earth 
on  all  sides.  He  glanced  around  him  in  a 
helpless  agony  of  fear.  A  dozen  concentric 
circles  of  squatting  Indians,  whose  heads 
were  visible  above  the  reeds,  encompassed 
the  banks  around  the  sunken  base  of  the 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      183 

sweat-house  with  successive  dusky  rings. 
Every  avenue  of  escape  seemed  closed.  Per- 
haps for  that  reason  the  attitude  of  his  sur- 
rounding captors  was  passive  rather  than 
aggressive,  and  the  shrewd,  half-Hebraic 
profiles  nearest  him  expressed  only  stoical 
waiting.  There  was  a  strange  similarity  of 
expression  in  his  own  immovable  apathy  of 
despair.  His  only  sense  of  averting  his  fate 
was  a  confused  idea  of  explaining  his  intru- 
sion. His  desperate  memory  yielded  a  few 
common  Indian  words.  He  pointed  auto- 
matically to  himself  and  the  stream.  His 
white  lips  moved. 

"  I  come  —  from  —  the  river  !  " 
A  guttural  cry,  as  if  the  whole  assembly 
were  clearing  their  throats,  went  round  the 
different  circles.     The  nearest  rocked  them- 
selves to  and  fro  and  bent  their  feathered 
heads  toward  him.     A  hollow-cheeked,    de- 
crepit old  man  arose  and  said,  simply :  — 
"  It  is  he  !     The  great  chief  has  come  I  " 

He  was  saved.     More  than  that,  he  was 
recreated.      For,  by  signs  and  intimations 


184      A  DRIFT  FROM  RED  WOOD   CAMP. 

he  was  quickly  made  aware  that  since  the 
death  of  their  late  chief,  their  medicine-men 
had  prophesied  that  his  perfect  successor 
should  appear  miraculously  before  them, 
borne  noiselessly  on  the  river  from  the  sea, 
in  the  plumes  and  insignia  of  his  predeces- 
sor. This  mere  coincidence  of  appearance 
and  costume  might  not  have  been  convincing 
to  the  braves  had  not  Elijah  Martin's  actual 
deficiencies  contributed  to  their  unquestioned 
faith  in  him.  Not  only  his  inert  possession 
of  the  sweat-house  and  his  apathetic  attitude 
in  their  presence,  but  his  utter  and  complete 
unlikeness  to  the  white  frontiersmen  of  their 
knowledge  and  tradition  —  creatures  of  fire 
and  sword  and  malevolent  activity  —  as  well 
as  his  manifest  dissimilarity  to  themselves, 
settled  their  conviction  of  his  supernatural 
origin.  His  gentle,  submissive  voice,  his 
yielding  will,  his  lazy  helplessness,  the  ab- 
sence of  strange  weapons  and  fierce  explo- 
sives in  his  possession,  his  unwonted  sobriety 
—  all  proved  him  an  exception  to  his  appar- 
ent race  that  was  in  itself  miraculous.  For 
it  must  be  confessed  that,  in  spite  of  the 


A    DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      185 

cherished  theories  of  most  romances  and  all 
statesmen  and  commanders,  that  fear  is  the 
great  civilizer  of  the  savage  barbarian,  and 
that  he  is  supposed  to  regard  the  prowess  of 
the  white  man  and  his  mysterious  death- 
dealing  weapons  as  evidence  of  his  supernat- 
ural origin  and  superior  creation,  the  facts 
have  generally  pointed  to  the  reverse.  Eli- 
jah Martin  was  not  long  in  discovering  that 
when  the  Minyo  hunter,  with  his  obsolete 
bow,  dropped  dead  by  a  bullet  from  a  view- 
less and  apparently  noiseless  space,  it  was 
not  considered  the  lightnings  of  an  avenging 
Deity,  but  was  traced  directly  to  the  am- 
bushed rifle  of  Kansas  Joe,  swayed  by  a 
viciousness  quite  as  human  as  their  own ; 
the  spectacle  of  Blizzard  Dick,  verging  on 
delirium  tremens,  and  riding  "amuck"  into 
an  Indian  village  with  a  revolver  in  each 
hand,  did  not  impress  them  as  a  supernat- 
ural act,  nor  excite  their  respectful  awe  as 
much  as  the  less  harmful  frenzy  of  one  of 
their  own  medicine-men ;  they  were  not  in- 
fluenced by  implacable  white  gods,  who  re- 
laxed only  to  drive  -  hard  bargains  and 


186      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

exchange  mildewed  flour  and  shoddy  blan- 
kets for  their  fish  and  furs.  I  am  afraid 
they  regarded  these  raids  of  Christian  civ- 
ilization as  they  looked  upon  grasshopper- 
plagues,  famines,  inundations,  and  epidem- 
ics ;  while  an  utterly  impassive  God  washed 
his  hands  of  the  means  he  had  employed, 
and  even  encouraged  the  faithful  to  resist 
and  overcome  his  emissaries  —  the  white 
devils  !  Had  Elijah  Martin  been  a  student 
of  theology,  he  would  have  been  struck  with 
the  singular  resemblance  of  these  theories  — 
although  the  application  thereof  was  re- 
versed —  to  the  Christian  faith.  But  Elijah 
Martin  had  neither  the  imagination  of  a 
theologian  nor  the  insight  of  a  politician. 
He  only  saw  that  he,  hitherto  ignored  and 
despised  in  a  community  of  half-barbaric 
men,  now  translated  to  a  community  of 
men  wholly  savage,  was  respected  and  wor- 
shipped ! 

It  might  have  turned  a  stronger  head 
than  Elijah's.  He  was  at  first  frightened, 
fearful  lest  his  reception  concealed  some  hid- 
den irony,  or  that,  like  the  flower-crowned 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      187 

victim  of  ancient  sacrifice,  he  was  exalted 
and  sustained  to  give  importance  and  maj- 
esty to  some  impending  martyrdom.  Then 
he  began  to  dread  that  his  innocent  deceit  — 
if  deceit  it  was  —  should  be  discovered ;  at 
last,  partly  from  meekness  and  partly  from 
the  animal  contentment  of  present  security, 
he  accepted  the  situation.  Fortunately  for 
him  it  was  purely  passive.  The  Great  Chief 
of  the  Minyo  tribe  was  simply  an  expression- 
less idol  of  flesh  and  blood.  The  previous 
incumbent  of  that  office  had  been  an  old 
man,  impotent  and  senseless  of  late  years 
through  age  and  disease.  The  chieftains 
and  braves  had  consulted  in  council  before 
him,  and  perfunctorily  submitted  their  deci- 
sions, like  offerings,  to  his  unresponsive 
shrine.  In  the  same  way,  all  material  events 
—  expeditions,  trophies,  industries  —  were 
supposed  to  pass  before  the  dull,  impassive 
eyes  of  the  great  chief,  for  direct  acceptance. 
On  the  second  day  of  Elijah's  accession,  two 
of  the  braves  brought  a  bleeding  human 
scalp  before  him.  Elijah  turned  pale,  trem- 
bled, and  averted  his  head,  and  then,  remem- 


188      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

bering  the  danger  of  giving  way  to  his  weak- 
ness, grew  still  more  ghastly.  The  warriors 
watched  him  with  impassioned  faces.  A 
grunt  —  but  whether  of  astonishment,  dis- 
sent, or  approval,  he  could  not  tell  —  went 
round  the  circle.  But  the  scalp  was  taken 
away  and  never  again  appeared  in  his  pres- 
ence. 

An  incident  still  more  alarming  quickly 
followed.  Two  captives,  white  men,  se- 
curely bound,  were  one  day  brought  before 
him  on  their  way  to  the  stake,  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  old  and  young  squaws  and  chil- 
dren. The  unhappy  Elijah  recognized  in 
the  prisoners  two  packers  from  a  distant 
settlement  who  sometimes  passed  through 
Redwood  Camp.  An  agony  of  terror,  shame, 
and  remorse  shook  the  pseudo  chief  to  his 
crest  of  high  feathers,  and  blanched  his  face 
beneath  its  paint  and  yellow  ochre.  To  in- 
terfere to  save  them  from  the  torture  they 
were  evidently  to  receive  at  the  hands  of 
those  squaws  and  children,  according  to  cus- 
tom, would  be  exposure  and  death  to  him 
as  well  as  themselves  ;  while  to  assist  by  his 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      189 

passive  presence  at  the  horrible  sacrifice  of 
his  countrymen  was  too  much  for  even  his 
weak  selfishness.  Scarcely  knowing  what 
he  did  as  the  lugubrious  procession  passed 
before  him,  he  hurriedly  hid  his  face  in  his 
blanket  and  turned  his  back  upon  the  scene. 
There  was  a  dead  silence.  The  warriors 
were  evidently  unprepared  for  this  extraor- 
dinary conduct  of  their  chief.  What  might 
have  been  their  action  it  was  impossible  to 
conjecture,  for  at  that  moment  a  little  squaw, 
perhaps  impatient  for  the  sport  and  partly 
emboldened  by  the  fact  that  she  had  been 
selected,  only  a  few  days  before,  as  the  be- 
trothed of  the  new  chief,  approached  him 
slyly  from  the  other  side.  The  horrified 
eyes  of  Elijah,  momentarily  raised  from  his 
blanket,  saw  and  recognized  her.  The  fee- 
bleness of  a  weak  nature,  that  dared  not 
measure  itself  directly  with  the  real  cause, 
vented  its  rage  on  a  secondary  object.  He 
darted  a  quick  glance  of  indignation  and 
hatred  at  the  young  girl.  She  ran  back  in 
startled  terror  to  her  companions,  a  hurried 
consultation  followed,  and  in  another  mo- 


190      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 

ment  the  whole  bevy  of  girls,  old  women, 
and  children  were  on  the  wing,  shrieking 
and  crying,  to  their  wigwams. 

"You  see,"  said  one  of  the  prisoners  coolly 
to  the  other,  in  English,  "  I  was  right.  They 
never  intended  to  do  anything  to  us.  It  was 
only  a  bluff.  These  Minyos  are  a  different 
sort  from  the  other  tribes.  They  never  kill 
anybody  if  they  can  help  it." 

"  You're  wrong,"  said  the  other,  excitedly. 
"  It  was  that  big  chief  there,  with  his  head  in 
a  blanket,  that  sent  those  dogs  to  the  right 
about.  Hell !  did  you  see  them  run  at  just 
a  look  from  him  ?  He  's  a  high  and  mighty 
feller,  you  bet.  Look  at  his  dignity !  " 

"  That 's  so  —  he  ain't  no  slouch,"  said 
the  other,  gazing  at  Elijah's  muffled  head, 

critically.  "  D d  if  he  ain't  a  born 

king." 

The  sudden  conflict  and  utter  revulsion  of 
emotion  that  those  simple  words  caused  in 
Elijah's  breast  was  almost  incredible.  He 
had  been  at  first  astounded  by  the  revelation 
of  the  peaceful  reputation  of  the  unknown 
tribe  he  had  been  called  upon  to  govern; 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD    CAMP.     191 

but  even  this  comforting  assurance  was  as 
nothing  compared  to  the  greater  revelations 
implied  in  the  speaker's  praise  of  himself. 
He,  Elijah  Martin!  the  despised,  the  re- 
jected, the  worthless  outcast  of  Redwood 
Camp,  recognized  as  a  "born  king,"  a 
leader  ;  his  power  felt  by  the  very  men  who 
had  scorned  him  !  And  he  had  done  noth- 
ing —  stop  !  had  he  actually  done  nothing  ? 
Was  it  not  possible  that  he  was  really  what 
they  thought  him  ?  His  brain  reeled  under 
the  strong,  unaccustomed  wine  of  praise ; 
acting  upon  his  weak  selfishness,  it  exalted 
him  for  a  moment  to  their  measure  of  his 
strength,  even  as  their  former  belief  in  his 
inefficiency  had  kept  him  down.  Courage 
is  too  often  only  the  memory  of  past  success. 
This  was  his  first  effort ;  he  forgot  he  had 
not  earned  it,  even  as  he  now  ignored  the 
danger  of  earning  it.  The  few  words  of 
unconscious  praise  had  fallen  like  the  blade 
of  knighthood  on  his  cowering  shoulders; 
he  had  risen  ennobled  from  the  contact. 
Though  his  face  was  still  muffled  in  his  blan- 
ket, he  stood  erect  and  seemed  to  have 
gained  in  stature. 


192     A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

The  braves  had  remained  standing  irreso- 
lute, and  yet  watchful,  a  few  paces  from 
their  captives.  Suddenly,  Elijah,  still  keep- 
ing his  back  to  the  prisoners,  turned  upon 
the  braves,  with  blazing  eyes,  violently 
throwing  out  his  hands  with  the  gesture  of 
breaking  bonds.  Like  all  sudden  demon- 
strations of  undemonstrative  men,  it  was  ex- 
travagant, weird,  and  theatrical.  But  it  was 
more  potent  than  speech  —  the  speech  that, 
even  if  effective,  would  still  have  betrayed 
him  to  his  countrymen.  The  braves  hur- 
riedly cut  the  thongs  of  the  prisoners ; 
another  impulsive  gesture  from  Elijah,  and 
they,  too,  fled.  When  he  lifted  his  eyes 
cautiously  from  his  blanket,  captors  and  cap- 
tives had  dispersed  in  opposite  directions, 
and  he  was  alone  —  and  triumphant ! 

From  that  moment  Elijah  Martin  was 
another  man.  He  went  to  bed  that  night  in 
an  intoxicating  dream  of  power ;  he  arose  a 
man  of  will,  of  strength.  He  read  it  in  the 
eyes  of  the  braves,  albeit  at  times  averted  in 
wonder.  He  understood,  now,  that  although 
peace  had  been  their  habit  and  custom,  they 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      193 

had  nevertheless  sought  to  test  his  theories 
of  administration  with  the  offering  of  the 
scalps  and  the  captives,  and  in  this  detection 
of  their  common  weakness  he  forgot  his  own. 
Most  heroes  require  the  contrast  of  the  un- 
heroic  to  set  them  off ;  and  Elijah  actually 
found  himself  devising  means  for  strength- 
ening the  defensive  and  offensive  character 
of  the  tribe,  and  was  himself  strengthened 
by  it.  Meanwhile  the  escaped  packers  did 
not  fail  to  heighten  the  importance  of  their 
adventure  by  elevating  the  character  and 
achievements  of  their  deliverer ;  and  it  was 
presently  announced  throughout  the  frontier 
settlements  that  the  hitherto  insignificant 
and  peaceful  tribe  of  Minyos,  who  inhabited 
a  large  territory  bordering  on  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  had  developed  into  a  powerful  na- 
tion, only  kept  from  the  war-path  by  a  more 
powerful  but  mysterious  chief.  The  Gov- 
ernment sent  an  Indian  agent  to  treat  with 
them,  in  its  usual  half -paternal,  half -aggres- 
sive, and  wholly  inconsistent  policy.  Elijah, 
who  still  retained  the  imitative  sense  and 
adaptability  to  surroundings  which  belong 


194      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD    CAMP. 

to  most  lazy,  impressible  natures,  and  in 
striped  yellow  and  vermilion  features  looked 
the  chief  he  personated,  met  the  agent  with 
silent  and  becoming*  gravity.  The  council 
was  carried  on  by  signs.  Never  before  had 
an  Indian  treaty  been  entered  into  with  such 
perfect  knowledge  of  the  intentions  and  de- 
signs of  the  whites  by  the  Indians,  and  such 
profound  ignorance  of  the  qualities  of  the 
Indians  by  the  whites.  It  need  scarcely  be 
said  that  the  treaty  was  an  unquestionable 
Indian  success.  They  did  not  give  up  their 
arable  lands  ;  what  they  did  sell  to  the  agent 
they  refused  to  exchange  for  extravagant- 
priced  shoddy  blankets,  worthless  guns,  damp 
powder,  and  mouldy  meal.  They  took  pay 
in  dollars,  and  were  thus  enabled  to  open 
more  profitable  commerce  with  the  traders  at 
the  settlements  for  better  goods  and  better 
bargains  ;  they  simply  declined  beads,  whis- 
key, and  Bibles  at  any  price.  The  result 
was  that  the  traders  found  it  profitable  to 
protect  them  from  their  countrymen,  and  the 
chances  of  wantonly  shooting  down  a  possi- 
ble valuable  customer  stopped  the  old  indis- 


A  DRIFT  FROM  RED  WOOD    CAMP.      195 

criminate  rifle-practice.  The  Indians  were 
allowed  to  cultivate  their  fields  in  peace. 
Elijah  purchased  for  them  a  few  agricultu- 
ral implements.  The  catching,  curing,  and 
smoking  of  salmon  became  an  important 
branch  of  trade.  They  waxed  prosperous 
and  rich  ;  they  lost  their  nomadic  habits  — 
a  centralized  settlement  bearing  the  external 
signs  of  an  Indian  village  took  the  place  of 
their  old  temporary  encampments,  but  the 
huts  were  internally  an  improvement  on  the 
old  wigwams.  The  dried  fish  were  banished 
from  the  tent-poles  to  long  sheds  especially 
constructed  for  that  purpose.  The  sweat- 
house  was  no  longer  utilized  for  worldly  pur- 
poses. The  wise  and  mighty  Elijah  did  not 
attempt  to  reform  their  religion,  but  to  pre- 
serve it  in  its  integrity. 

That  these  improvements  and  changes 
were  due  to  the  influence  of  one  man  was 
undoubtedly  true,  but  that  he  was  necessa- 
rily a  superior  man  did  not  follow.  Elijah's 
success  was  due  partly  to  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  enabled  to  impress  certain  nega- 
tive virtues,  which  were  part  of  his  own 


196      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

nature,  upon  a  community  equally  consti- 
tuted to  receive  them.  Each  was  strength- 
ened by  the  recognition  in  each  other  of  the 
unexpected  value  of  those  qualities ;  each 
acquired  a  confidence  begotten  of  their  suc- 
cess. "  He-hides-his-face"  as  Elijah  Mar- 
tin was  known  to  the  tribe  after  the  episode 
of  the  released  captives,  was  really  not  so 
much  of  an  autocrat  as  many  constitutional 
rulers. 

Two  years  of  tranquil  prosperity  passed. 
Elijah  Martin,  foundling,  outcast,  without 
civilized  ties  or  relationship  of  any  kind, 
forgotten  by  his  countrymen,  and  lifted  into 
alien  power,  wealth,  security,  and  respect, 
became  —  homesick ! 

It  was  near  the  close  of  a  summer  after- 
noon. He  was  sitting  at  the  door  of  his 
lodge,  which  overlooked,  on  one  side,  the 
far-shining  levels  of  the  Pacific  and,  on 
the  other,  the  slow  descent  to  the  cultivated 
meadows  and  banks  of  the  Minyo  River, 
that  debouched  through  a  waste  of  salt- 
marsh,  beach-grass,  sand-dunes,  and  foamy 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.     197 

estuary  into  the  ocean.  The  headland,  or 
promontory  —  the  only  eminence  of  the 
Minyo  territory  —  had  been  reserved  by 
him  for  his  lodge,  partly  on  account  of  its 
isolation  from  the  village  at  its  base,  and 
partly  for  the  view  it  commanded  of  his 
territory.  Yet  his  wearying  and  discon- 
tented eyes  were  more  often  found  on  the 
ocean,  as  a  possible  highway  of  escape  from 
his  irksome  position,  than  on  the  plain  and 
the  distant  range  of  mountains,  so  closely 
connected  with  the  nearer  past  and  his  for- 
mer detractors.  In  his  vague  longing  he 
had  no  desire  to  return  to  them,  even  in  tri- 
umph ;  in  his  present  security  there  still 
lingered  a  doubt  of  his  ability  to  cope  with 
the  old  conditions.  It  was  more  like  his 
easy,  indolent  nature  —  which  revived  in  his 
prosperity  —  to  trust  to  this  least  practical 
and  remote  solution  of  his  trouble.  His 
homesickness  was  as  vague  as  his  plan  for 
escape  from  it ;  he  did  not  know  exactly 
what  he  regretted,  but  it  was  probably  some 
life  he  had  not  enjoyed,  some  pleasure  that 
had  escaped  his  former  incompetency  and 
poverty. 


198     A  DRIFT  FROM   REDWOOD   CAMP. 

He  had  sat  thus  a  hundred  times,  as  aim- 
lessly blinking  at  the  vast  possibilities  of  the 
shining  sea  beyond,  turning  his  back  upon 
the  nearer  and  more  practicable  mountains, 
lulled  by  the  far-off  beating  of  monotonous 
rollers,  the  lonely  cry  of  the  curlew  and 
plover,  the  drowsy  changes  of  alternate 
breaths  of  cool,  fragrant  reeds  and  warm, 
spicy  sands  that  blew  across  his  eyelids,  and 
succumbed  to  sleep,  as  he  had  done  a  hun- 
dred times  before.  The  narrow  strips  of 
colored  cloth,  insignia  of  his  dignity,  flapped 
lazily  from  his  tent-poles,  and  at  last  seemed 
to  slumber  with  him ;  the  shadows  of  the 
leaf-tracery  thrown  by  the  bay-tree,  on  the 
ground  at  his  feet,  scarcely  changed  its  pat- 
tern. Nothing  moved  but  the  round,  rest- 
less, berry-like  eyes  of  Wachita,  his  child- 
wife,  the  former  heroine  of  the  incident  with 
the  captive  packers,  who  sat  near  her  lord, 
armed  with  a  willow  wand,  watchful  of 
intruding  wasps,  sand-flies,  and  even  the 
more  ostentatious  advances  of  a  rotund  and 
clerical-looking  humble-bee,  with  his  monot- 
onous homily.  Content,  dumb,  submissive, 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP.      199 

vacant,  at  such  times,  Wachita,  debarred 
her  husband's  confidences  through  the  native 
customs  and  his  own  indifferent  taciturn- 
ity, satisfied  herself  by  gazing  at  him  with 
the  wondering  but  ineffectual  sympathy  of 
a  faithful  dog.  Unfortunately  for  Elijah 
her  purely  mechanical  ministration  could 
not  prevent  a  more  dangerous  intrusion 
upon  his  security. 

He  awoke  with  a  light  start,  and  eyes 
that  gradually  fixed  upon  the  woman  a  look 
of  returning  consciousness.  Wachita  pointed 
timidly  to  the  village  below. 

"  The  Messenger  of  the  Great  White 
Father  has  come  to-day,  with  his  wagons 
and  horses ;  he  would  see  the  chief  of  the 
Minyos,  but  I  would  not  disturb  my  lord." 

Elijah's  brow  contracted.  Relieved  of 
its  characteristic  metaphor,  he  knew  that 
this  meant  that  the  new  Indian  agent  had 
made  his  usual  official  visit,  and  had  exhib- 
ited the  usual  anxiety  to  see  the  famous 
chieftain. 

"  Good !  "  he  said.  "  White  Rabbit  [his 
lieutenant]  will  see  the  Messenger  and  ex- 
change gifts.  It  is  enough." 


200      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

"  The  white  messenger  has  brought  his 
wangee  [white]  woman  with  him.  They 
would  look  upon  the  face  of  him.  who  hides 
it,"  continued  Wachita,  dubiously.  "  They 
would  that  Wachita  should  bring  them 
nearer  to  where  my  lord  is,  that  they  might 
see  him  when  he  knew  it  not." 

Elijah  glanced  moodily  at  his  wife,  with 
the  half  suspicion  with  which  he  still  re- 
garded her  alien  character.  "  Then  let 
Wachita  go  back  to  the  squaws  and  old 
women,  and  let  her  hide  herself  with  them 
until  the  wangee  strangers  are  gone,"  he 
said,  curtly.  "  I  have  spoken.  Go !  " 

Accustomed  to  these  abrupt  dismissals, 
which  did  not  necessarily  indicate  displeas- 
ure, Wachita  disappeared  without  a  word. 
Elijah,  who  had  risen,  remained  for  a  few 
moments  leaning  against  the  tent-poles,  gaz- 
ing abstractedly  toward  the  sea.  The  bees 
droned  uninterruptedly  in  his  ears,  the  far- 
off  roll  of  the  breakers  came  to  him  dis- 
tinctly; but  suddenly,  with  greater  distinct- 
ness, came  the  murmur  of  a  woman's  voice. 

"  He  don't  look  savage  a  bit !  Why,  he  's 
real  handsome." 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      201 

"  Hush!  you  —  "  said  a  second  voice,  in 
a  frightened  whisper. 

"  But  if  he  did  hear  he  could  n't  under- 
stand," returned  the  first  voice.  A  sup- 
pressed giggle  followed. 

Luckily,  Elijah's  natural  and  acquired 
habits  of  repression  suited  the  emergency. 
He  did  not  move,  although  he  felt  the  quick 
blood  fly  to  his  face,  and  the  voice  of  the 
first  speaker  had  suffused  him  with  a  strange 
and  delicious  anticipation.  He  restrained 
himself,  though  the  words  she  had  naively 
dropped  were  filling  him  with  new  and  trem- 
ulous suggestion.  He  was  motionless,  even 
while  he  felt  that  the  vague  longing  and 
yearning  which  had  possessed  him  hitherto 
was  now  mysteriously  taking  some  unknown 
form  and  action. 

The  murmuring  ceased.  The  humble- 
bee's  drone  again  became  ascendant  —  a 
sudden  fear  seized  him.  She  was  going  ; 
he  should  never  see  her !  While  he  had 
stood  there  a  dolt  and  sluggard,  she  had  sat- 
isfied her  curiosity  and  stolen  away.  With 
a  sudden  yielding  to  impulse,  he  darted 


202      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

quickly  in  the  direction  where  he  had  heard 
her  voice.  The  thicket  moved,  parted, 
crackled,  and  rustled,  and  then  undulated 
thirty  feet  before  him  in  a  long  wave,  as  if 
from  the  passage  of  some  lithe,  invisible 
figure.  But  at  the  same  moment  a  little  cry, 
half  of  alarm,  half  of  laughter,  broke  from 
his  very  feet,  and  a  bent  manzanito-bush,  re- 
laxed by  frightened  fingers,  flew  back  against 
his  breast.  Thrusting  it  hurriedly  aside, 
his  stooping,  eager  face  came  almost  in  con- 
tact with  the  pink,  flushed  cheeks  and  tan- 
gled curls  of  a  woman's  head.  He  was  so 
near,  her  moist  and  laughing  eyes  almost 
drowned  his  eager  glance ;  her  parted  lips 
and  white  teeth  were  so  close  to  his  that  her 
quick  breath  took  away  his  own. 

She  had  dropped  on  one  knee,  as  her  com- 
panion fled,  expecting  he  would  overlook  her 
as  he  passed,  but  his  direct  onset  had  ex- 
tracted the  feminine  outcry.  Yet  even  then 
she  did  not  seem  greatly  frightened. 

"  It 's  only  a  joke,  sir,"  she  said,  coolly 
lifting  herself  to  her  feet  by  grasping  his 
arm.  "  I  'm  Mrs.  Dall,  the  Indian  agent's 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP.      203 

wife.  They  said  you  wouldn't  let  any- 
body see  you  —  and  /  determined  I  would. 
That 's  all !  "  She  stopped,  threw  back  her 
tangled  curls  behind  her  ears,  shook  the 
briers  and  thorns  from  her  skirt,  and  added  : 
"Well,  I  reckon  you  aren't  afraid  of  a 
woman,  are  you?  So  no  harm's  done. 
Good-by !  " 

She  drew  slightly  back  as  if  to  retreat,  but 
the  elasticity  of  the  manzanito  against  which 
she  was  leaning  threw  her  forward  once 
more.  He  again  inhaled  the  perfume  of 
her  hair  ;  he  saw  even  the  tiny  freckles  that 
darkened  her  upper  lip  and  brought  out  the 
moist,  red  curve  below.  A  sudden  recollec- 
tion of  a  playmate  of  his  vagabond  childhood 
flashed  across  his  mind ;  a  wild  inspiration 
of  lawlessness,  begotten  of  his  past  experi- 
ence, his  solitude,  his  dictatorial  power,  and 
the  beauty  of  the  woman  before  him,  mounted 
to  his  brain.  He  threw  his  arms  passion- 
ately around  her,  pressed  his  lips  to  hers, 
and  with  a  half-hysterical  laugh  drew  back 
and  disappeared  in  the  thicket. 

Mrs.  Dall  remained  for  an  instant  dazed 


204      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 

and  stupefied.  Then  she  lifted  her  arm  me- 
chanically, and  with  her  sleeve  wiped  her 
bruised  mouth  and  the  ochre-stain  that  his 
paint  had  left,  like  blood,  upon  her  cheek. 
Her  laughing  face  had  become  instantly 
grave,  but  not  from  fear  ;  her  dark  eyes  had 
clouded,  but  not  entirely  with  indignation. 
She  suddenly  brought  down  her  hand  sharply 
against  her  side  with  a  gesture  of  discovery. 
"  That 's  no  Injun !  "  she  said,  with 
prompt  decision.  The  next  minute  she 
plunged  back  into  the  trail  again,  and  the 
dense  foliage  once  more  closed  around  her. 
But  as  she  did  so  the  broad,  vacant  face  and 
the  mutely  wondering  eyes  of  Wachita  rose, 
like  a  placid  moon,  between  the  branches  of 
a  tree  where  they  had  been  hidden,  and 
shone  serenely  and  impassively  after  her. 

A  month  elapsed.  But  it  was  a  month 
filled  with  more  experience  to  Elijah  than 
his  past  two  years  of  exaltation.  In  the 
first  few  days  following  his  meeting  with 
Mrs.  Dall,  he  was  possessed  by  terror, 
mingled  with  flashes  of  desperation,  at  the 


A  DRIFT  FROM  RED  WOOD   CAMP.     205 

remembrance  of  his  rash  imprudence.  His 
recollection  of  extravagant  frontier  chivalry 
to  woman-kind,  and  the  swift  retribution  of 
the  insulted  husband  or  guardian,  alternately 
filled  him  with  abject  fear  or  extravagant 
recklessness.  At  times  prepared  for  flight, 
even  to  the  desperate  abandonment  of  him- 
self in  a  canoe  to  the  waters  of  the  Pacific : 
at  times  he  was  on  the  point  of  inciting  his 
braves  to  attack  the  Indian  agency  and  pre- 
cipitate the  war  that  he  felt  would  be  in- 
evitable. As  the  days  passed,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  interruption  to  his  friendly 
relations  with  the  agency,  with  that  relief  a 
new,  subtle  joy  crept  into  Elijah's  heart. 
The  image  of  the  agent's  wife  framed  in  the 
leafy  screen  behind  his  lodge,  the  perfume 
of  her  hair  and  breath  mingled  with  the 
spicing  of  the  bay,  the  brief  thrill  and  tanta- 
lization  of  the  stolen  kiss  still  haunted  him. 
Through  his  long,  shy  abstention  from 
society,  and  his  two  years  of  solitary  exile, 
the  fresh  beauty  of  this  young  Western  wife, 
in  whom  the  frank  artlessness  of  girlhood 
still  lingered,  appeared  to  him  like  a  supe- 


206      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 

rior  creation.  He  forgot  his  vague  longings 
in  the  inception  of  a  more  tangible  but 
equally  unpractical  passion.  He  remembered 
her  unconscious  and  spontaneous  admiration 
of  him  ;  he  dared  to  connect  it  with  her  for- 
giving silence.  If  she  had  withheld  her  con- 
fidences from  her  husband,  he  could  hope  — 
he  knew  not  exactly  what ! 

One  afternoon  Wachita  put  into  his  hand 
a  folded  note.  With  an  instinctive  presenti- 
ment of  its  contents,  Elijah  turned  red  and 
embarrassed  in  receiving  it  from  the  woman 
who  was  recognized  as  his  wife.  But  the 
impassive,  submissive  manner  of  this  house- 
hold drudge,  instead  of  touching  his  con- 
science, seemed  to  him  a  vulgar  and  brutal 
acceptance  of  the  situation  that  dulled  what- 
ever compunction  he  might  have  had.  He 
opened  the  note  and  read  hurriedly  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"  You  took  a  great  freedom  with  me  the 
other  day,  and  I  am  justified  in  taking  one 
with  you  now.  I  believe  you  understand 
English  as  well  as  I  do.  If  you  want  to  ex- 
plain that,  and  your  conduct  to  me,  I  will  be 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP.      207 

at  the  same  place  this  afternoon.  My  friend 
will  accompany  me,  but  she  need  not  hear 
what  you  have  to  say." 

Elijah  read  the  letter,  which  might  have 
been  written  by  an  ordinary  school-girl,  as  if 
it  had  conveyed  the  veiled  rendezvous  of  a 
princess.  The  reserve,  caution,  and  shyness 
which  had  been  the  safeguard  of  his  weak 
nature  were  swamped  in  a  flow  of  immature 
passion.  He  flew  to  the  interview  with  the 
eagerness  and  inexperience  of  first  love.  He 
was  completely  at  her  mercy.  So  utterly 
was  he  subjugated  by  her  presence  that  she 
did  not  even  run  the  risk  of  his  passion. 
Whatever  sentiment  might  have  mingled 
with  her  curiosity,  she  was  never  conscious 
of  a  necessity  to  guard  herself  against  it. 
At  this  second  meeting  she  was  in  full  pos- 
session of  his  secret.  He  had  told  her  every- 
thing ;  she  had  promised  nothing  in  return 
—  she  had  not  even  accepted  anything. 
Even  her  actual  after-relations  to  the  de- 
nouement of  his  passion  are  still  shrouded  in 
mystery. 
.  Nevertheless,  Elijah  lived  two  weeks  on 


208      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP. 

the  unsubstantial  memory  of  this  meeting. 
What  might  have  followed  could  not  be 
known,  for  at  the  end  of  that  time  an  out- 
rage —  so  atrocious  that  even  the  peaceful 
Minyos  were  thrilled  with  savage  indigna- 
tion —  was  committed  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village.  An  old  chief,  who  had  been  spe- 
cially selected  to  deal  with  the  Indian  agent, 
and  who  kept  a  small  trading  outpost,  had 
been  killed  and  his  goods  despoiled  by  a 
reckless  Kedwood  packer.  The  murderer 
had  coolly  said  that  he  was  only  "  serving 
out "  the  tool  of  a  fraudulent  imposture  on 
the  Government,  and  that  he  dared  the  arch- 
impostor  himself,  the  so-called  Minyo  chief, 
to  help  himself.  A  wave  of  ungovernable 
fury  surged  up  to  the  very  tent-poles  of  Eli- 
jah's lodge  and  demanded  vengeance.  Eli- 
jah trembled  and  hesitated.  In  the  thraldom 
of  his  selfish  passion  for  Mrs.  Dall  he  dared 
not  contemplate  a  collision  with  her  country- 
men. He  would  have  again  sought  refuge 
in  his  passive,  non-committal  attitude,  but 
he  knew  the  impersonal  character  of  Indian 
retribution  and  compensation  —  a  sacrifice 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      209 

of  equal  value,  without  reference  to  the  cul- 
pability of  the  victim  —  and  he  dreaded  some 
spontaneous  outbreak.  To  prevent  the  en- 
forced expiation  of  the  crime  by  some  inno- 
cent brother  packer,  he  was  obliged  to  give 
orders  for  the  pursuit  and  arrest  of  the  crim- 
inal, secretly  hoping  for  his  escape  or  the  in- 
terposition of  some  circumstance  to  avert  his 
punishment.  A  day  of  sullen  expectancy  to 
the  old  men  and  squaws  in  camp,  of  gloomy 
anxiety  to  Elijah  alone  in  his  lodge,  followed 
the  departure  of  the  braves  on  the  war-path. 
It  was  midnight  when  they  returned.  Eli- 
jah, who  from  his  habitual  reserve  and  the 
accepted  etiquette  of  his  exalted  station  had 
remained  impassive  in  his  tent,  only  knew 
from  the  guttural  rejoicings  of  the  squaws 
that  the  expedition  had  been  successful  and 
the  captive  was  in  their  hands.  At  any  other 
time  ha  might  have  thought  it  an  evidence 
of  some  growing  scepticism  of  his  infallibil- 
ity of  judgment  and  a  diminution  of  respect 
that  they  did  not  confront  him  with  their 
prisoner.  But  he  was  too  glad  to  escape 
from  the  danger  of  exposure  and  possible  ar- 


210      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 

raignment  of  his  past  life  by  the  desperate 
captive,  even  though  it  might  not  have  been 
understood  by  the  spectators.  He  reflected 
that  the  omission  might  have  arisen  from 
their  recollection  of  his  previous  aversion  to 
a  retaliation  on  other  prisoners.  Enough 
that  they  would  wait  his  signal  for  the  tor- 
ture and  execution  at  sunrise  the  next  day. 

The  night  passed  slowly.  It  is  more  than 
probable  that  the  selfish  and  ignoble  tor- 
ments of  the  sleepless  and  vacillating  judge 
were  greater  than  those  of  the  prisoner  who 
dozed  at  the  stake  between  his  curses.  Yet 
it  was  part  of  Elijah's  fatal  weakness  that 
his  kinder  and  more  human  instincts  were 
dominated  even  at  that  moment  by  his  law- 
less passion  for  the  Indian  agent's  wife,  and 
his  indecision  as  to  the  fate  of  his  captive 
was  as  much  due  to  this  preoccupation  as  to 
a  selfish  consideration  of  her  relations  to  the 
result.  He  hated  the  prisoner  for  his  infe- 
licitous and  untimely  crime,  yet  he  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  his  death.  He  paced 
the  ground  before  his  lodge  in  dishonorable 
incertitude.  The  small  eyes  of  the  submis- 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.     211 

sive  Wachita  watched  him  with  vague  solici- 
tude. 

Toward  morning  he  was  struck  by  a  shame- 
ful inspiration.  He  would  creep  unperceived 
to  the  victim's  side,  unloose  his  bonds,  and 
bid  him  fly  to  the  Indian  agency.  There  he 
was  to  inform  Mrs.  Dall  that  her  husband's 
safety  depended  upon  his  absenting  himself 
for  a  few  days,  but  that  she  was  to  remain 
and  communicate  with  Elijah.  She  would 
understand  everything,  perhaps  ;  at  least  she 
would  know  that  the  prisoner's  release  was 
to  please  her,  but  even  if  she  did  not,  no 
harm  would  be  done,  a  white  man's  life 
would  be  saved,  and  his  real  motive  would 
not  be  suspected.  He  turned  with  feverish 
eagerness  to  the  lodge.  Wachita  had  disap- 
peared —  probably  to  join  the  other  women. 
It  was  well ;  she  would  not  suspect  him. 

The  tree  to  which  the  doomed  man  was 
bound  was,  by  custom,  selected  nearest  the 
chief's  lodge,  within  its  sacred  enclosure, 
with  no  other  protection  than  that  offered  by 
its  reserved  seclusion  and  the  outer  semicir- 
cle of  warriors'  tents  before  it.  To  escape, 


212     A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP. 

the  captive  would  therefore  have  to  pass  be- 
side the  chief's  lodge  to  the  rear  and  descend 
the  hill  toward  the  shore.  Elijah  would 
show  him  the  way,  and  make  it  appear  as  if 
he  had  escaped  unaided.  As  he  glided  into 
the  shadow  of  a  group  of  pines,  he  could 
dimly  discern  the  outline  of  the  destined  vic- 
tim, secured  against  one  of  the  larger  trees 
in  a  sitting  posture,  with  his  head  fallen  for- 
ward on  his  breast  as  if  in  sleep.  But  at  the 
same  moment  another  figure  glided  out  from 
the  shadow  and  approached  the  fatal  tree. 
It  was  Wachita ! 

He  stopped  in  amazement.  But  in  another 
instant  a  flash  of  intelligence  made  it  clear. 
He  remembered  her  vague  uneasiness  and 
solicitude  at  his  agitation,  her  sudden  disap- 
pearance ;  she  had  fathomed  his  perplexity, 
as  she  had  once  before.  Of  her  own  accord 
she  was  going  to  release  the  prisoner !  The 
knife  to  cut  his  cords  glittered  in  her  hand. 
Brave  and  faithful  animal ! 

He  held  his  breath  as  he  drew  nearer. 
But,  to  his  horror,  the  knife  suddenly  flashed 
in  the  air  and  darted  down,  again  and  again, 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CAMP.      213 

upon  the  body  of  the  helpless  man.  There 
was  a  convulsive  struggle,  but  no  outcry,  and 
the  next  moment  the  body  hung  limp  and 
inert  in  its  cords.  Elijah  would  himself 
have  fallen,  half-fainting,  against  a  tree,  bat, 
by  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  came  the  quick 
revelation  that  the  desperate  girl  had  rightly 
solved  the  problem  !  She  had  done  what  he 
ought  to  have  done  —  and  his  loyalty  and 
manhood  were  preserved.  That  conviction 
and  the  courage  to  act  upon  it  —  to  have 
called  the  sleeping  braves  to  witness  his 
sacrifice  —  would  have  saved  him,  but  it  was 
ordered  otherwise. 

As  the  girl  rapidly  passed  him  he  threw 
out  his  hand  and  seized  her  wrist.  "  Who 
did  you  do  this  for  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  For  you,"  she  said,  stupidly. 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"  Because  you  no  kill  him  —  you  love  his 
squaw." 

"  His  squaw  !  "  He  staggered  back.  A 
terrible  suspicion  flashed  upon  him.  He 
dashed  Wachita  aside  and  ran  to  the  tree. 
It  was  the  body  of  the  Indian  agent !  Abo- 


214      A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD   CRMP. 

riginal  justice  had  been  satisfied.  The  war- 
riors had  not  caught  the  murderer,  but,  true 
to  their  idea  of  vicarious  retribution,  had 
determined  upon  the  expiatory  sacrifice  of  a 
life  as  valuable  and  innocent  as  the  one  they 

had  lost. 

• 

"  So  the  Gov'rinent  hev  at  last  woke  up 
and  wiped  out  them  cussed  Digger  Minyos," 
said  Snap-shot  Harry,  as  he  laid  down  the 
newspaper,  in  the  brand-new  saloon  of  the 
brand-new  town  of  Redwood.  "  I  see  they  've 
stampeded  both  banks  of  the  Minyo  River, 
and  sent  off  a  lot  to  the  reservation.  I  reckon 
the  soldiers  at  Fort  Cass  got  sick  o'  senti- 
ment after  those  hounds  killed  the  Injun 
agent,  and  are  beginning  to  agree  with  us 
that  the  only  '  good  Injun  '  is  a  dead  one." 

"And  it  turns  out  that  that  wonderful 
chief,  that  them  two  packers  used  to  rave 
about,  woz  about  as  big  a  devil  ez  any,  and 
tried  to  run  off  with  the  agent's  wife,  only 
the  warriors  killed  her.  I  'd  like  to  know 
what  become  of  him.  Some  says  he  was 
killed,  others  allow  that  he  got  away.  I  've 


A  DRIFT  FROM  REDWOOD  CAMP.      215 

heerd  tell  that  he  was  originally  some  kind 
of  Methodist  preacher !  —  a  kind  o'  saint 
that  got  a  sort  o'  spiritooal  holt  on  the  old 
squaws  and  children." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  old  Skeesicks  ?  I  see 
he's  back  here  ag'in — and  grubbin'  along 
at  a  dollar  a  day  on  tailin's.  He  's  been 
somewhere  up  north,  they  say." 

"What,  Skeesicks?  that  shiftless,  o'n'ry 
cuss  !  You  bet  he  wus  n't  anywhere  where 
there  was  danger  or  fighting.  Why,  you 
might  as  well  hev  suspected  him  of  being  the 
big  chief  himself!  There  he  comes — ask 
him." 

And  the  laughter  was  so  general  that 
Elijah  Martin  —  alias  Skeesicks  —  lounging 
shyly  into  the  bar-room,  joined  in  it  weakly. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


N9    562241 


Harte,  B. 

A  Phyllis  of 
the  Sierras* 


PS1829 

P4 

1888 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


